ART^FOK 
LIFE'S^SAKE 


CHARLES-RCAF^ 


1 
1 1  'i 


n 


ART   FOR   LIFE'S   SAKE 


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ART 
FOR  LIFE'S  SAKE 

AN  APPLICATION  OF  THE   PRINCIPLES 

OF    ART    TO    THE    IDEALS   AND 

CONDUCT  OF  INDIVIDUAL 

AND  COLLECTIVE  LIFE 


BY 

CHARLES   H 


CAFFIN 


(B.A.  Oxford) 

AUTHOR   OF    "how   TO    STUDY    PICTURES,"    "THE    STORY    OF 

DUTCH  PAINTING,"    "THE    STORY  OF  SPANISH  PAINTING," 

"THE  STORY  OF    FRENCH    PAINTING,"    "THE    STORY 

OF  AMERICAN   PAINTING,"  ETC.,  ETC. 


. 


•: :  oj  • 


THE  PRANG  COMPANY 

NEW  YORK   CHICAGO   BOSTON   ATLANTA   DALLAS 


11 IM  s 

C3 


COPYRIGHT,  I913 
BY  CHARLES  H.  CAFFIN 


All  rights  reserved 


*\ 


THE- PLIMPTON -PRESS 
NORWOOD -MASS-U-S'A 


7C^ 


TO  THE   READER 

THIS  book  is  a  product  of  some  fifteen  years 
experience  as  a  lecturer  on  art,  especially 
the  art  of  painting. 

John  Addington  Symonds  remarked  more  than  a 
quarter  of  a  century  ago,  "Painting  has  lost  its 
hold  upon  the  center  of  our  intellectual  activity. 
It  can  no  longer  give  form  to  the  ideas  that  rule 
the  modem  world." 

Since  these  words  were  written  the  ideas  have 
continued  to  deepen  and  to  expand  until  they  con- 
sciously embrace  the  making-over  of  society,  eco- 
nomically, intellectually,  and  spiritually,  in  order 
to  realize  more  fuUy  the  possibiHties  of  democracy. 
In  the  evolution  of  this  New  Democracy  the  arts 
will  continue  to  play  their  necessary  and  beautiful 
part;  especially  the  arts  of  music  and  of  poetry  and 
the  hterature  and  drama  of  life.  But  in  the  pres- 
ence of  forces  so  varied  and  mighty  as  are  moving 
the  thought  and  action  of  today,  no  one  of  the  arts 
nor  all  of  them  can  ever  again  supply  a  form,  com- 
mensurate with  our  ideals.  They  will  continue  to 
furnish  inspiration  and  example;  but  the  form, 
big  enough  to  express  the  gathering  ideal  of  Hiunan 
Betterment,  can  be  no  less  big  than  Life  itself. 

The  supreme  art  of  the  New  Democracy  is  to  be 
the  art  of  Human  Life;    the  molding  of  the  indi- 

267991 


d(-.  :i/J3::{  ;.  :;T0:  TMS   READER 

vidual  and  collective  life  into  forms,  efficient,  healthy 
and  happy,  that  shall  embody  with  ever-increasing 
realization  the  Democratic  ideal  —  Life,  Liberty, 
and  Pursuit  of  Happiness. 

Just  as  we  have  enlarged  our  conception  of  the 
scope  of  art,  so  we  must  broaden  our  conception  of 
the  meaning  of  Beauty.  I  have  tried  to  show  that 
the  idea  of  Beauty,  not  metaphorically  but  actu- 
ally, involves  whatever  makes  for  the  Healthful 
and  Happy  Growth  of  the  Individual  and  Collec- 
tive Life.  Lispired  by  this  ideal  of  Beauty  and 
working  through  the  methods  of  the  artist,  men  and 
women  may  become  artists  of  their  own  lives  and  co- 
operate as  artists  in  the  whole  hfe  of  the  community. 

To  hasten  the  coming  of  this  supreme  Art  of  Liv- 
ing should  be  the  inspiration  and  controlling  aim  of 
education.  It  suppHes  a  practical  ideal  under  which 
all  the  specialties  of  the  curriculum  can  be  corre- 
lated into  a  Oneness  of  motive  and  conduct.  It 
promotes  an  ideal  of  intellectual,  moral,  and  spirit- 
ual Oneness  under  which  the  citizens  of  the  future 
may  be  trained  to  recognize,  not  only  their  individ- 
ual rights  and  opportunities,  but  also  their  individ- 
ual duties  and  responsibilities  to  society.  It  helps 
to  reconcile  the  conflict  of  the  Individual  and  the 
Collective  ideal  and  tends  toward  the  material  and 
spiritual  cooperation  of  All  in  the  Whole  Life. 

New  York,  February,  igi2' 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.  By  Way  OF  Introduction 9 

n.  Concerning  Barriers 15 

m.  The  Aristocratic  and  the  Democratic  Ideal 

in  Art  and  Life 22 

IV.  The  Italian  Renaissance:  An  Ideal  of  Aris- 
tocracy       31 

V.  The    Scientific-Artistic    Organization    of 

Holland  in  the  Seventeenth  Century    .  37 

VI.  Life:  Living  and  Making  a  Living      ...  45 

VII.  Organized  Education 53 

VIII.  The  World's  Need  of  Art 62 

IX.  Nature  —  The  Material  of  Art    ....  70 

X.  The  Motive  of  the  Artist 75 

XI.  Beauty 82 

XII.  Beauty   as    an   Inevitable    Expression    of 

Growth 92 

XIII.  Natural  Beauty  and  Artistic  Beauty.   .     .  100 

XIV.  Beauty  in  Art no 

XV.  Standards  of  Beauty  in  Art 115 

XVI.  Ugliness  in  Art 127 

XVII.  Naturalism  and  Realism 133 

XVIII.  Religion,  Morality,  and  Art 137 

XIX.  Beauty  and  Ugliness  in  Life 147 


8  CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

XX.  The  Inventive-Constructive  Faculty     .     .  i6i 

XXI.  The  Reconciliation  of  Art  and  Machinery  175 

XXII.  Fitness 185 

XXIII.  Fitness  in  Our  Public  Buildings  ....  192 

J  XXIV.  Unity,  Wholeness,  Healthiness,  Holiness   .  205 

XXV.  Individualism  and  Collectivism      .     .     .     .  216 

XXVI.  Harmony 226 

XXVII.  Balance  and  Poise 235 

XXVIII.  Rhythm 245 

XXIX.  The  Practical  and  the  Ideal 260 

XXX.  Culture 270 


ART  FOR  LIFE'S  SAKE 
0art  I 

CHAPTER  I 
BY  WAY  OF  INTRODUCTION 

"  I  ^  UT,  my  dear  Sir,  Saint- Gaudens  is  not  an 

r^  artist;  he's  a  sculptor." 
-^-^  This  was  said  to  me  by  a  man  who  was 
himself  a  sculptor.  He  had  no  intention  of  dis- 
paraging Saint-Gaudens,  whom  he  recognized  as 
the  foremost  sculptor  that  America  has  pro- 
duced, one  who  holds  his  own  among  the  best  of 
his  contemporaries  in  Europe.  Clearly,  therefore, 
he  was  using  the  term,  artist,  merely  as  the  equiva- 
lent of  painter.  That  was  fifteen  years  ago,  and 
the  jolt  which  my  mind  received  started  the  idea 
which  has  developed  into  the  topic  of  this  book. 

Briefly,  the  topic  is:  What  is  Art,  and  who  is 
an  artist?  Do  the  old  conceptions  of  these  terms 
need  extending  in  order  to  adjust  them  to  the  new 
conditions  and  ideals  of  democratic  Life?  Can  we 
discover  a  more  organic  and  therefore  more  vital 
relation  between  Art  and  Life  than  has  existed 
under  the  old  conception  of  Art,  a  conception  for 


lo  ART  FOR  LIFE'S  SAKE 

which  the  conditions  and  ideals  of  aristocracy 
were  responsible? 

For  the  core  of  our  subject  is  Life  and  Art;  Life 
which  we  cannot  evade;  Art  which  we  may  reject 
at  our  peril  and  cost;  but  Art  for  Life's  sake,  not 
only  for  Art's  sake;  not  for  selfish  indulgence,  but 
for  the  widest  possible  benefit  to  all;  and  not  any 
one  of  the  many  arts;  but  all  of  them  as  embraced 
in  the  supreme  Art  —  the  Art  of  Living. 

^         ^         *         *         *         *        ^ 

The  aim  today  of  the  greatest  thinkers  and 
doers  in  the  solving  of  our  democratic  problems, 
is  to  increase  the  efficiency  and  the  happiness  of 
Life.  Judged  by  this  standard  does  Art,  as  at 
present  taught  and  accepted,  represent  a  vital 
force?  If  it  were  necessary  to  forego  for  one 
whole  year  the  services  of  the  artist,  as  at  pres- 
ent understood,  or  those  of  the  engineer  or  the 
surgeon  or  the  industrial  organizer,  would  the 
world  have  any  hesitation  as  to  which  it  could 
better  spare? 

We  shall  find,  as  we  proceed,  that  the  reason 
why  the  world  would  not  dispense  with  its  sur- 
geons, engineers  and  industrial  organizers — citing 
these  only  as  examples  —  is  because  they  are  live 
workers  and  thinkers;  they  are  products  of  the 
democratic  ideal  and  practice,  to  the  further  de- 
velopment of  which  they  are  so  vitally  contribut- 
ing. On  the  other  hand  the  specialized  artist's 
attitude  toward  Art  and  Life  is  apt  to  be  one 


V 


BY  WAY  OF  INTRODUCTION        ii 

derived  from  a  dead  past.  It  is  a  superannuated 
survival  of  aristocratic  conditions  and  ideals, 
which,  so  far  as  we  are  concerned,  are  past  and 
gone,  swallowed  up  for  ever  in  the  new  ideal  of 
democracy. 

In  the  New  Ideal  be  it  noted.  For  I  am  not 
speaking  of  what  has  passed  current  in  school 
textbooks  and  Fourth  of  July  oratory  as  the  ideal 
of  democracy.  That,  as  some  of  the  clearest  and 
highest  thinkers  in  the  country  are  telling  us,  was 
aristocratic  in  its  origin  and  development.  The 
Fathers,  though  in  revolt,  were  aristocrats,  and 
the  ideals  inherited  from  them  have  been  developed 
under  a  governmental  and  social  system  which 
virtually  involves  a  bourgeois  aristocracy  and  a 
proletariat.  I  speak  of  the  New  Democracy,  the 
ideals  of  which  are  filling  the  hve  minds  of  pro- 
gressive thinkers  and  workers  and  through  their 
efforts  are  beginning  to  be  reahzed. 

It  will  be  a  democracy  founded  not  upon 
theories  of  the  rights  of  man,  or  the  rights  of  the 
governed  or  what  not,  but  upon  knowledge 
derived  from  the  facts  of  Nature,  —  inanimate 
Nature  and  the  Nature  of  man.  It  demands  for 
its  consmnmation  the  union  of  two  vital  operations: 
Science  and  Art.  Science,  which  is  the  mastering 
of  the  facts  and  relations  of  Nature;  and  Art, 
which  is  the  organizing  of  the  knowledge  and  power 
acquired  by  Science,  so  as  to  further  the  efficiency 
of  the  worker  and  his  happiness,  j 


12  ART  FOR  LIFERS  SAKE 

Accordingly,  this  book  is  to  treat  of  Art  as  the 
principle  of  constructive  organization,  not  only  in 
the  Fine  Arts  but  in  the  everyday  conduct  of  Life. 
It  aims  to  show  that  the  qualities  which  go  to  the 
making  of  what  we  have  been  in  the  habit  of 
regarding  exclusively  as  a  work  of  Art  are  analo- 
gous to  those  which  make  for  efl&ciency  in  Life, 
^^riefly,  they  are  the  product  of  Selection  and 
Organization;  the  latter,  based  upon  elements  of 
Fitness,  Unity,  Balance,  Harmony  and  Rhythm, 
with  a  view  to  Efficiency.  The  last-named  prod- 
uct in  Life  is  the  equivalent  of  what  the  artist 
in  the  Fine  Arts  calls  Expression.\ 

It  aims  to  show  that  the  iadtistrial  organizer, 
the  surgeon,  the  physician,  the  engineer  and,  in 
general,  all  who  are  working  toward  the  highest 
possibilities  of  efl&ciency,  are  artists.  That  to 
govern  a  city  well,  or  to  order  a  house  beautifully, 
or  to  build  up  an  industrial  unit  of  harmoniously 
related  workers,  achieving  a  maximum  of  produc- 
tiveness under  conditions  of  welfare  to  the  in- 
dividual and  the  community  —  needs  Art  and 
artists.  Nay,  further,  that  the  Life  of  the  in- 
dividual will  be  complete  in  its  efl&ciency  and 
happiness  only  in  so  far  as  it  is  regulated  by  the 
principles  of  artistic  ethics;  that  men  and  women 
can  be  and  ought  to  be,  in  their  own  lives, 
artists. 

On  the  other  hand,  in  the  work  of  the  world, 
however  much  we  may  cooperate  to  make  it  a 


BY  WAY  OF  INTRODUCTION        13 

work  of  Art,  we  are  confronted  by  obstacles  over 
which  we  have  only  partial  control.  Life  is  so 
complicated  within  ourselves  and  in  our  relations 
with  others  that  we  can  only  approximate  to 
completeness  of  Fitness,  Unity,  Balance,  Harmony 
and  Rhythm. 

It  is  here  that  the  speciaHzed  artist  has  the 
advantage.  Working  in  the  world  of  his  own 
imagination,  controlling  the  materials  with  which 
he  works,  subject  to  no  Hmitations  save  those  of 
his  own  capacity,  the  painter,  the  poet,  the  writer 
of  fiction,  the  dramatist,  the  composer  and  the 
artists  in  other  mediums,  can  reach  a  more  perfect 
Organization,  a  more  complete  Harmoniousness,  a 
fuller  Efficiency  of  Expression.  If,  therefore,  they 
know  and  live  up  to  the  privilege  of  their  high 
estate  their  works  of  Art  should  be  symbols  of  what 
the  rest  of  the  earnest  workers  of  the  world,  in 
their  zeal  for  individual  and  collective  better- 
ment, are  striving  with  necessary  incomplete- 
ness to  attain.  Hence  the  proud  distinction  of 
the  artist  proper,  if  he  understand  himself  aright 
and  be  rightly  understood,  is  to  hold  aloft  the  en- 
sign to  humanity,  pointing  the  way  to  nearer  and 
nearer  approaches  toward  perfection. 

For  this  gospel  of  the  New  Democracy,  based 
upon  the  Union  of  Art  and  Science,  and  to  be 
realized  by  individual  and  collective  Organization, 
involves  a  reconsideration  of  our  old  notions  re- 
specting the  ideal  and  the  practical.    Hitherto 


14  ART  FOR  LIFE'S  SAKE 

they  have  been  regarded  as  antagonistic.  But 
the  new  faith  and  hope  in  Life  discover  their 
identity,  j  The  ideaHst  of  today,  we  shall  find, 
must  be  practical;  and  the  most  practical  man  is 
he  who  has  the  vision  of  the  ideahst* 

Rodin  once  remarked  that  "the  greatest  artist 
who  ever  lived  was  Jesus."  The  famous  sculp- 
tor's meaning,  as  I  understand  it,  may  be  ex- 
pressed in  this  way.  While  other  artists  have 
built,  carved  or  painted,  simg  or  written  their 
ideals  into  the  forms  of  their  Works  of  Art, 
Jesus  embodied  His  ideal  of  hiunanity  in  the 
Form  and  Works  of  His  own  Life.  And  thereby 
He  left  an  example,  which  the  world  has  been 
too  slow  to  follow,  how  humanity,  both  individ- 
ually and  collectively,  may  give  form  to  its  ideals 
in  the  grandest  of  all  Works  of  Art — the  Per- 
fected Beauty  of  Life  and  Living. 

The  ultimate  aim  of  this  book,  therefore,  is  to 
further  the  getting  together  of  each  and  all,  no 
matter  what  may  be  their  specialized  work,  in  an 
organized  cooperation,  animated  by  the  ideal  of 
individual  and  collective  betterment. 


CHAPTER   II 
CONCERNING  BARRIERS 

TO  return  to  my  friend,  the  sculptor:  his 
narrow  understanding  of  the  term,  "ar- 
tist," was  not  confined  to  himself.  It  was 
then,  and  still  is,  far  too  common  a  habit  to  regard 
as  an  artist  only  one  who  makes  pictures. 

Young  people  who  have  spent  a  few  months  in 
a  school  of  drawing  and  painting  will  tell  you,  if 
you  inquire  their  profession,  that  they  are  artists. 
Their  idea  of  an  artist  is  of  one  who  has  acquired 
more  or  less  facihty  in  representing  objects  upon 
a  piece  of  paper  or  canvas  by  means  of  pencil, 
crayon  or  brush.  This  is  also  very  much  the 
notion  of  an  artist  that  is  entertained  by  the 
general  public.  To  the  vast  majority  of  people 
an  artist  is  one  who  draws  the  originals  of  the 
advertisements  in  the  street  cars  and  newspapers; 
or  who  illustrates  the  magazines  and  comic  supple- 
ments; or  who  represents  incidents  or  scenes  in 
easel  pictures. 

It  is  in  this  narrow  sense  that  Art  is  being 
popularized  in  the  market  place.  For  nowadays 
every  progressive  department  store  has  its  "Art 


i6  ART  FOR  LIFE'S  SAKE 

Department''  in  which  the  bargain  hunter  can 
find  at  marked-down  prices  "real  handmade 
pictures."  They  are  usually  chosen  with  a  view 
to  satisfying  the  popular  taste  for  seeing  some- 
thing accurately  represented  and  highly  finished; 
that  is  to  say,  in  plentiful  detail,  and  rendered  with 
photographic  fidelity;  the  whole  being  wrought  up 
to  a  smooth,  shiny  polish,  until  it  rivals  the  surface 
of  a  varnished  oak  bureau.  This  to  the  average 
public  is  Art,  which  however,  if  I  may  judge  from 
a  remark  I  once  overheard,  is  to  be  distinguished 
from  "high  Art."  Two  ladies  were  standing  in 
front  of  the  picture  of  a  nude  woman.  Said  one, 
"Just  look  at  that,  my  dear." 

"Yes,"  replied  the  other  with  the  assured  tone 
of  one  who  knows,  "that  is  high  Art."  It  seems, 
then,  that  according  to  the  popular  idea  Art  is  the 
representation  in  picture  form  of  something  with 
which  we  are  familiar,  while  the  representation  of 
that  with  which  we  are  not  supposed  to  be  ic,miliar 
is  "high  Art." 

Meanwhile,  the  painters  as  a  body  have  done 
their  share  in  spreading  this  limited  idea  of  Art. 
To  themselves  they  arrogate  the  title  artist,  but 
they  seldom  extend  it  to  sculptors  or  architects; 
while  they  qualify  the  smaller  arts  of  design  by 
calling  them  art-crafts  and  the  workers  in  them 
art-craftsmen.  But  a  man  cannot  be  an  artist 
without  being  a  craftsman,  and,  if  he  is  a  crafts- 
man of  the  right  sort,  he  is  an  artist. 


CONCERNING  BARRIERS  17 

Painters,  and  sculptors  also,  have  further 
prejudiced  the  appreciation  of  Art  by  the  arbitrary 
barriers  which  they  have  erected  around  it.  They 
have  regarded  Art  as  the  private  preserve  of  artists, 
a  sort  of  pleasaunce,  walled  about  against  intru- 
sion, with  a  sign  over  the  gate:  "No  Trespassers." 
For  their  pose  is  that  nobody  but  themselves  can 
understand  Art,  that  is  to  say,  painting  and 
sculpture;  unless  it  be  the  art-connoisseur  and 
the  art-patron.  These  they  welcome  to  their 
sacred  inclosure;  meanwhile,  it  is  true,  opening 
the  gate  on  certain  formal  occasions  to  the  general 
pubUc  —  Philistines,  they  are  apt  to  call  them  — 
usually  at  so  much  a  head  for  the  privilege  of 
viewing  the  exhibition.  Then  the  public  dribbles 
in  and  is  confronted,  in  effect,  with  injunctions  to 
"keep  off  the  grass"  and  is  baffled  with  jargon 
about  "Art  for  Art's  sake."  It  breathes  a  sigh  of 
relief  a^  it  comes  out,  for  it  feels  that  it  has  done 
its  duty;  yet  is  puzzled  as  to  what  this  Art  has  to 
do  with  Life.  Nor  is  this  astonishing,  when  one 
considers  how  many  artists  view  Art  as  a  thing 
apart  from  Life. 

I  do  not  forget  that  many  painters  are  trying  to 
popularize  Art  by  securing  commissions  to  decorate 
our  public  buildings.  But  whether  the  kind  of 
decorations  which  they  provide  bear  much  relation 
to  our  Life  or  whether  they  are  in  themselves 
calculated  to  fire  enthusiasm  for  Art,  is  a  question 
to  which  I  may  return  later. 


i8  ART  FOR  LIFE'S  SAKE 

Accordingly,  the  general  public,  for  whom  let 
me  say  this  book  is  mainly  written,  thinks  of  Art 
as  something  to  be  collected  in  museums,  displayed 
occasionally  in  Salons  or  National  or  Royal 
Academy  exhibitions;  or  to  be  used  as  furnishings 
for  the  houses  of  those  who  like  fine  things  and  can 
afford  to  pay  for  them;  or  lastly,  a  commodity 
that  serves  the  fads  of  rich  collectors  who  rim  one 
another  up  to  fancy  prices  in  the  auction  rooms. 
Viewed  from  any  of  these  standpoints.  Art  is  not 
an  integral  part  of  Life  but  a  kind  of  orchid-like 
parasite  on  Life.  And  as  such  the  public  regards 
it,  and,  being  very  busy  with  real  problems,  feels 
that  it  "hasn't  time  to  bother  with  Art." 

Meanwhile  a  great  many  people  feel  that  Art 
ought  to  be  related  to  Life  and  they  are  working 
hard  to  make  it  so,  both  for  their  own  individual 
benefit  and  for  the  good  of  the  community.  For 
example,  most  of  the  Women's  Clubs  in  America 
have  an  "Art  Section"  or  Class,  composed  of  a 
handful  of  earnest  women  who  are  eager  to  "do 
something  for  Art."  Some  have  traveled  and 
seen  the  World's  masterpieces  of  Art;  more  hope 
to  do  so.  Meanwhile,  by  studying  books  and 
engaging  a  lecturer  once  a  year  for  an  hour  they 
try  to  keep  the  fire  of  "Art"  alive  in  themselves 
and  to  hand  it  on  to  others.  In  nine  cases  out  of 
ten  what  they  understand  by  "Art"  is  painting 
and  they  invite  a  lecturer  to  talk  on  pictures  and 
show  them  some  lantern  slides.    All  the  time, 


CONCERNING  BARRIERS  19 

however,  they  are  Hving  in  communities  where 
pictures,  or  at  any  rate  the  sort  of  pictures  they 
are  studying,  do  not  exist.  For  I  have  in  mind 
not  only  the  great  centers  of  population,  where 
the  Art  Museum  takes  its  place  alongside  the  Pub- 
lic Library,  but  the  countless  smaller  cities  in 
which  the  problems  of  our  modem  civihzation  are 
being  gradually  solved;  where  the  men  and 
women  are  fired  with  high  ideals  of  citizenship, 
and  some  of  the  finest  products  of  the  modern 
democratic  spirit  are  to  be  found. 

It  is  the  number  of  such  communities  and  their 
achievement  and  promise  that  have  helped  to 
develop  the  idea  involved  in  this  book. 

I  have  had  some  fifteen  years'  experience  as  a 
lecturer  before  these  Women's  Clubs.  When  I 
am  asked  to  give  a  lecture  on  "Art,''  it  almost  goes 
without  saying  that  I  am  expected  to  treat  some 
phase  of  the  history  of  painting.  Occasionally  I 
may  be  invited  to  speak  on  sculpture  or  architec- 
ture; but,  with  the  fewest  possible  exceptions, 
pictures  are  the  theme.  The  chairman  of  the 
"Art  Class"  receives  me,  expressing  the  hope  that 
there  may  be  a  good  attendance.  However,  she 
is  not  sanguine  for,  as  she  explains,  the  "Art 
Class"  is  very  small.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  it 
seems  to  be  usually  the  smallest  of  all  the  groups 
into  which  the  Club  membership  is  divided. 
These  will  comprise  Literature,  Music,  Drama, 
Sociology,  Civics,  Current  Topics  and  so  forth. 


20  ART  FOR  LIFE'S  SAKE 

Each  group  has  its  special  meetings,  to  which  the 
members  of  other  groups  are  invited.  But  for 
the  most  part  the  ladies  who  are  interested  in 
Literature  are  not  interested  in  "Art";  and  those 
who  "do  something  for  Art"  leave  Civics  to  be 
attended  to  by  others;  and  so  on.  For  the  most 
part  the  Club  does  not  attempt  to  coordinate  its 
units  in  order  to  promote  greater  efficiency.  It 
comes  near  to  being  a  Club  divided  against  itself. 

After  one  of  my  talks  a  lady  remarked:  "Oh!  if 
my  husband  could  only  have  heard  you.  But  he 
cares  nothing  about  Art;  the  only  pictures  that 
interest  him  are  the  moving  picture  shows."  This 
lady  overlooked  the  fact  that  these  were  the  only 
sort  of  pictures  to  be  seen  in  this  particular  city. 
The  women,  in  fact,  were  reading  and  talking 
about  things  which  most  of  them  had  not  seen  and 
perhaps  never  would  see,  while  the  men  were 
dealing  with  such  facts  —  business,  moving  pic- 
tures and  what  not  —  as  actually  existed  in  their 
midst.  The  women  were  "getting  culture";  the 
men,  "doing  things." 

Two  points  of  view  toward  Life!  Not  united, 
but  representing  separate  outlooks  upon  Life  from 
the  standpoint  of  a  "  Great  Divide."  The  woman 
looking  out  to  what  she  calls  Ideals;  the  man,  on 
his  side,  looking  out  upon  what  he  calls  the  Practi- 
cal. The  two,  standing  back  to  back,  each  front- 
ing a  partial  prospect;  instead  of  standing  shoulder 
to   shoulder,   fronting   together   the   same   wide 


CONCERNING  BARRIERS  21 

horizon  in  which  both  the  Practical  and  the  Ideal 
are  united.  Hence,  as  in  the  case  of  the  Woman's 
Club,  for  lack  of  coordination  of  purpose  and 
community  of  spirit  there  is  less  than  there  might 
be  of  sympathy  and  efficiency.  The  home  is  in 
danger  of  being  divided  against  itself;  the  club 
likewise,  while  the  city,  because  its  men  and 
women  are  at  odds  as  to  motives,  is  apt  to  be 
disorganized,  misgoverned;  with  more  bungling 
and  waste  than  necessary  and  less  efficiency  —  a 
place  not  so  fit  as  it  might  be  for  productive  in- 
dustry and  for  healthy,  happy  lives. 


CHAPTER  III 

THE   ARISTOCRATIC   AND    THE   DEMO- 
CRATIC IDEAL  IN  ART  AND  LIFE 

ANOTHER  reason  for  the  public's  indiffer- 
ence to  Art  is  that  artists  and  instructors 
in  Art  have  been  at  so  Httle  pains  to  illus- 
trate the  relation  of  the  Art  of  the  past  to  the 
ideals  and  conditions  of  its  several  periods.  They 
have  treated  Art  as  a  speciahzed  subject,  detached 
from  other  departments  of  human  energy;  as  if, 
like  Topsy,  it  had  "just  grow'd"  and  were  not,  as 
in  fact  it  has  always  been,  an  expression  of  the 
life-spirit  of  its  time.  For,  as  Richard  Wagner 
said,  all  memorable  art  has  been  produced  in 
response  to  a  common  and  collective  need  on  the 
part  of  the  community;  or  at  least  of  that  portion 
of  it  which  was  in  the  ascendancy,  or  possessed  of 
sufficient  power  to  make  its  need  recognized. 

As  we  survey  the  past,  we  find  that  such  power 
has  been  usually  in  the  hands  of  a  minority  of  the 
community;  of  a  privileged  class,  who  were  able 
to  impose  their  theory  and  practice  of  life  on  the 
more  or  less  unquestioning  submission  of  the  masses 
of  the  people.  Was  it  not  Bismarck  who  cynically 
suggested  the  addition  to  the   Sermon  on  the 


ARISTOCRATIC  —  DEMOCRATIC      23 

Mount  of  another  Beatitude,  "Beati  possidentes"? 
"Blessed  are  they  who  are  in  possession";  for  "to 
him  that  hath  shall  be  given  and  from  him  that 
hath  not  shaU  be  taken  away  even  that  which  he 
seemeth  to  have."  The  history  of  society  is 
mainly  composed  of  chapters  which  either  recog- 
nize the  rights  of  Privilege,  based  on  birth,  divine 
ordinance,  or  on  power  gained  by  the  sword  or  by 
superior  physical,  mental  or  material  resources; 
or,  on  the  other  hand,  records  the  struggle  of 
the  Unprivileged  to  wrest  from  the  Privileged  at 
least  a  portion  of  their  rights.  The  pendulum 
swings  between  the  two  Ideals  of  aristocracy  and 
democracy. 

The  dawn  of  history  and  the  myths  which  ob- 
scure it  show  the  aristocratic  ideal  in  the  ascen- 
dant. The  Bible  begins  significantly  with  the 
"fall"  of  man,  because  he  had  dared  to  exercise 
his  will  in  opposition  to  the  decrees  of  the  deity. 
The  latter  was  a  "jealous  god,"  wishing  mankind 
to  be  happy,  but  in  the  way  that  he  prescribed  and 
so  as  not  to  encroach  upon  his  prerogative  of  the 
knowledge  of  Good  and  Evil.  The  Woman,  how- 
ever, seeing  that  the  tree  was  good  for  food  and 
that  it  was  pleasant  to  the  eyes  and  a  tree  to  be 
desired  to  make  men  wise,  took  of  the  fruit  thereof 
and  did  eat  and  gave  unto  her  husband  with  her 
and  he  did  eat.  Woman's  intuition,  as  we  might 
explain  the  incident  today,  divined  the  right  that 
was  hers  and  the  Man's  and  the  right  of  their 


24  ART  FOR  LIFE'S  SAKE 

Children  yet  unborn,  and,  while  Man  paltered, 
timorous  of  doing  an  act  for  which  there  was  no 
precedent,  she  reached  out  and  grasped  the  means 
to  acquire  the  right. 

Even  today  the  Man  is  haggling  over  precedents 
and  rights.    For  many  thousand  years  he  had 
asserted  the  rights  of  privilege,   founded  upon 
precedent.    Then  he  grew  hot  in  revolt  and  enun- 
ciated theories  of  the  rights  of  man  as  Man.    But 
later  his  conscience  overtook  him  and  today,  in 
the  light  of  what  he  calls  the  scientific  attitude, 
he  is  apt  to  maintain  that  all  rights  are  a  fiction. 
They  can  at  best  only  be  assumed  to  exist  by 
courtesy  or  general  consent.    The  fact  is  he  cannot 
prove  them  by  his  reason  and  accordingly  assumes 
that  rights  are  non-existent.     Meanwhile,  modern 
philosophers,  such  as  William  James  and  Henri 
Bergson,  have  been  teaching  that  reason  is  not 
man's  sole  guide;  that  instinct  and  intuition,  too 
long  treated  by  philosophers  as  of  small  account, 
have  a  very  definite  and  important  standing  in  the 
tribunals  of  thought.     That  intuition,  in  its  antici- 
pation of  reason,  which  later  so  frequently  con- 
firms the  intuition,  is  a  most  precious  capacity  of 
the  human  mind.     It  is  the  handmaiden  and  the 
nursing  mother  of  reason  and  is  distinctively  the 
Woman's  process  of  reaching  after  what  she  divines 
to  be  necessary  and  good.     She  divined,  according 
to  the  old  story,  the  necessity  and  goodness  of 
knowledge  and  made  it  a  human  right. 


ARISTOCRATIC  —  DEMOCRATIC      25 

But  the  old  "moral"  was  otherwise.  Woman 
was  represented  as  having  been  tempted  by  the 
serpent,  which  to  the  Hebrew  imagination  sym- 
bolized everything  inimical  to  mankind;  and  she 
in  turn  tempted  Adam  and  he  fell.  In  conse- 
quence, through  Woman's  sin,  labor  and  sorrow 
entered  into  the  world.  Thus  early,  in  fact,  did 
Man  reaHze  that  Woman,  unless  she  were  kept  in 
subjection,  might  prove  an  obstacle  to  privilege. 

For  by  the  time  that  Hebrew  poets  had  invented 
this  story  of  the  Fall  of  Man  and  the  Curse  of 
Labor,  the  functions  of  a  jealous  god  had  been 
usurped  by  the  patriarch.  He  imposed  his  will 
upon  his  dependents,  wives  and  concubines,  and 
found  in  the  story  a  divine  sanction  for  his  privi- 
lege; one  that  explained,  justified,  and  would 
maintain  the  subjection  of  the  masses  to  labor  and 
of  the  Woman  to  Man.  Since  then  the  patriarch's 
privilege  has  been  superseded  at  one  time  or  an- 
other by  that  of  kings,  emperors,  popes,  churches, 
trades-guilds,  aristocracies  of  birth,  of  money 
and  intellect.  All  have  conspired  to  exploit  the 
unprivileged  and  by  flattery  or  force  to  keep  the 
Woman  as  an  appendage  to  the  Man. 

^  ^  *  ^  *  it  * 

It  is  not  necessary  for  our  present  study  to 
attempt  to  trace  the  age-long  conflict  between 
the  privileged  and  the  unprivileged.  Our  main 
topic  is  Art  in  relation  to  Life,  and,  in  order  to 
show  how  close  has  been  the  relation  in  the  past, 


26  ART  FOR  LIFERS  SAKE 

it  will  suffice  to  review  briefly  three  epochs :  the 
era  of  Cathedral  Building,  the  Italian  Renaissance 
and  the  Renaissance  in  Holland  in  the  seventeenth 
century.  The  first  and  the  last  were  northern 
movements  in  the  direction  of  democracy;  the 
Italian  was  a  revival  of  Mediterranean  culture  and 
stood  for  aristocracy.  It  is  my  purpose  to  suggest 
in  each  case  what  was  the  Life-spirit  of  the  time 
and  how  it  was,  respectively,  represented  in  Art. 

We  are  prone  to  think  of  the  Medieval  period, 
which  intervened  between  the  fall  of  the  Roman 
Empire  and  the  Italian  Renaissance,  as  the  Dark 
Ages.  This  term  of  contempt  has  come  down 
from  the  Italians,  whose  enthusiasm  over  the 
revival  of  Classic  literature  and  the  harvest  of 
architecture,  sculpture  and  painting  which  flour- 
ished in  the  glow  of  the  New  Learning  made  them 
see  nothing  but  darkness  in  the  past.  Because 
there  had  been  an  interval  of  chaos  in  the  earlier 
period,  before  the  German  Empire  and  the  French 
Kingdom  had  respectively  assumed  some  degree 
of  homogeneity  and  the  Roman  Cathohc  Church 
had  established  its  civilizing  power  in  the  West, 
they  chose  to  belittle  the  great  era  of  cathedral 
building.  Since  the  Goths  had  devastated  Italy, 
the  revivers  of  Mediterranean  culture  dubbed  the 
cathedral  architecture  ^  ^  Gothic. '  ^  The  epithet  was 
an  insult,  and  a  complete  misnomer,  the  use  of 
which  now  chiefly  lingers  in  the  English  language. 

For  it  was  out  of  Romanesque  ecclesiastical 


ARISTOCRATIC  —  DEMOCRATIC      27 

architecture,  which  itself  was  a  development  of 
the  Roman  basiHca,  that  the  styles  of  the  great 
cathedrals  of  northern  France,  England,  the 
Rhine  Provinces  and  the  Netherlands  were  evolved 
in  the  eleventh,  twelfth,  thirteenth  and  fourteenth 
centuries.  Meanwhile,  although  their  origin  was 
Mediterranean,  their  achievement  was  a  product 
of  the  northern  genius. 

When  men  found  that  the  completion  of  the 
thousand  years  of  Christianity  did  not  bring  the 
anticipated  end  of  the  world,  a  new  lust  of  life 
mingled  with  their  gratitude  to  God.  Thus  com- 
menced the  era  of  cathedral  building,  a  movement 
of  the  people,  headed  by  the  Church.  For  amid 
the  rivalry  of  the  Privileged,  the  Church  shrewdly 
and  nobly  arrayed  itself  on  the  side  of  the  Com- 
monalty, especially  in  the  cities  whose  growing 
wealth  enabled  them  to  extort  from  monarchs  and 
nobility,  in  return  for  the  taxes  which  they  paid, 
certain  rights  of  self-government.  The  movement, 
in  fact,  was  a  popular  one,  enlisting  the  pride  and 
cooperation  of  the  community.  The  cathedrals 
became  the  embodiment  of  the  people's  faith  and 
aspirations;  primarily  temples  of  worship,  but 
also  community-centers  of  learning  and  culture; 
university  settlements,  one  may  say,  built  by  the 
collective  efforts  of  the  Church  and  the  Laity. 
Dramatic  performances  were  held  in  them;  inci- 
dents of  Sacred  Writ,  at  first  produced  under 
clerical  supervision,  later  by  the  laity  and  accom- 


28  ART  FOR  LIFERS  SAKE 

panied  by  secular  and  even  farcical  interludes. 
Further,  in  some  instances  obtained  the  curious 
custom  of  opening  the  sacred  edifice  once  a  year  to 
romping  sports;  a  recognition,  apparently,  of  the 
joint  ownership  of  the  Laity  in  what  they  had 
helped  to  create. 

These  cathedrals  of  the  north  are  the  direct 
antithesis  of  Classic  architecture.  The  latter,  as 
represented  most  impressively  in  the  Greek 
temples,  embodies  the  reposeful  dignity  of  the 
horizontal  line,  and  is  characterized  by  formulated 
refinement  in  the  repetition  of  the  details.  But 
the  distinguishing  characteristics  of  the  northern 
cathedral  are  the  lines  of  upward  growth  and  the 
variety  in  unity  which  their  exuberant  elaboration 
of  details  involves.  They  are  the  product  of  a 
union  of  the  cooperative  and  individuaUstic 
methods.  The  master-builder  —  bishop,  abbot  or 
master-mason,  planned  the  general  design.  Its 
development  was  intrusted  to  the  mason  guild, 
while  individual  members  of  the  latter  wrought 
their  own  skill  and  imagination  into  the  details. 
The  carved  decoration  has  not  the  logic  and  uni- 
formity of  Classic  ornament.  It  has  rather  the 
spontaneity  and  artlessness  of  natural  growth; 
including  forms  of  ugliness  as  well  as  beauty; 
embodying  in  animal  and  human  shapes,  now 
Hfelike,  now  grotesque,  the  racial  lust  of  life  and 
the  human  experience  of  the  conflict  in  life  of 
good  and  evil. 


ARISTOCRATIC  —  DEMOCRATIC      29 

No  darkened  or  dimly  lighted  shrine,  like  the 
Classic  temple,  the  cathedral  was  inclosed  with 
windows  that  were  fretted  with  tracery  and 
jeweled  with  colored  glass,  through  which  the  light 
of  heaven  poured  in  a  wealth  of  multitudinous 
dyes  upon  the  mosaic  pavements,  painted  orna- 
ment, scrollwork  of  brass  and  iron,  velvets  and 
brocades  of  altar  hangings  and  the  vestments  of 
the  priests.  Every  art  of  skilled  craftsmanship 
was  expended  on  the  fittings  of  the  interior,  while 
nave  and  aisles  and  transepts  soared  to  subHme 
heights  and  stretched  in  vistas  that  terminated  in 
the  mystery  of  intersecting  lines.  Meanwhile, 
the  vastness  of  the  exterior  was  at  once  supported 
and  reheved  of  heaviness  by  flying  buttresses, 
embellished  with  sculpture  and  enriched  with 
carved  finials,  the  whole  rising  in  majesty  of  grace 
and  power  until  it  reached  its  supreme  growth  in 
tower  or  spire. 

For  growth  is  characteristic  of  its  style;  growth 
upward  and  expansive;  growth  like  that  of  human 
life,  representing  oneness  composed  of  infinite  units 
of  variation.  And  the  Life  which  these  cathedrals 
embody  is  pecuHarly  northern  in  its  genius;  aspir- 
ing in  spirit,  audacious  and  adventurous  in  prac- 
tice; ever  seeking  out  new  problems  and  bringing 
to  their  solution  the  tireless  patience  of  organiza- 
tion and  daimtless  Hberty  of  invention. 

The  northern  cathedrals,  indeed,  were  the  ex- 
pression in  Art  of  the  spirit  of  a  race,  which  even 


30  ART  FOR  LIFE'S  SAKE 

in  those  privilege-ridden  times  teemed  with  the 
desire  of  Liberty  and  Progress. 

Incidentally,  this  is  a  fact  that  too  long  has  been 
ignored.  For,  whatever  may  be  the  particular 
strain  which  each  of  us  carries  in  his  blood  we  are 
very  largely  of  one  race  and  that  is  the  northern, 
as  contrasted  with  the  races  of  the  Mediterranean. 
Yet  it  is  from  the  latter  that  for  some  three  cen- 
turies our  northern  race  has  derived  its  culture. 
Meanwhile,  in  the  conduct  of  Life  our  race  has 
ever  been  animated  with  the  spirit  of  adventure 
and  the  love  of  liberty.  The  result,  therefore,  of 
borrowing  an  aHen  culture  is  that  we  have  never 
really  fitted  it  to  our  practice  and  ideal  of  living. 
This  has  been  one  of  the  fundamental  causes  of  the 
great  divide  between  Art  and  Life  which  has 
characterized  our  civilization. 


CHAPTER   IV 

TEE   ITALIAN  RENAISSANCE:    AN 
IDEAL   OF   ARISTOCRACY 

IN  complete  contrast  to  the  growth  of  the 
northern  cathedrals,  the  splendor  of  the 
Italian  Renaissance  shone  upon  the  ruins  of 
national  Uberty  and  progress.  The  old-time 
communal  freedom  of  the  cities  had  been  usurped 
by  hereditary  or  upstart  nobility;  Florence,  for 
example,  being  dominated  by  the  Medici,  whose 
armorial  bearings  of  three  balls  testify  to  their 
origin  as  money-lenders.  The  various  dukes  and 
their  principalities  engaged  in  constant  internecine 
warfare  and  the  country  as  a  whole  was  the  battle- 
ground for  the  rivahies  of  the  kings  of  Spain  and 
France  and  of  the  emperors  of  Germany,  while  the 
papacy  fought  and  intrigued  with  all  for  the  main- 
tenance of  its  temporal  authority.  Privilege, 
in  its  most  aggravated  form  and  attended  by  its 
worst  results  of  human  waste,  was  rampant.  The 
common  people  counted  for  nothing  but  hewers  of 
wood,  drawers  of  water  or  pawns  in  the  game  of 
their  betters. 

Yet  out  of  this  groundwork  of  social  rottenness 
flowered  the  most  stately  and  splendid   art  of 


32  ART  FOR  LIFE'S  SAKE 

painting  that  the  world  can  show.  For  it  was  an 
art  of  aristocracy,  reflecting  the  pomp  and  glory 
of  the  privileged  life  at  its  zenith  of  mundane 
magnificence.  I  am  speaking  of  the  period  of  the 
High  Renaissance  of  the  sixteenth  century,  by 
which  time  the  fervor  of  religion  that  survived 
from  the  Middle  Ages  and  had  burned  so  strangely 
amid  the  lurid  excesses  of  the  Early  Renaissance 
had  been  all  but  superseded  by  a  new  religion, 
that  of  Hellenic  culture.  For  the  gods  of  Hellas 
had  resumed  their  sway  over  at  least  the  imagina- 
tion of  men,  while  Aristotle  and  Plato,  esteemed 
as  scarcely  less  than  gods,  had  captured  their 
intelligence.  By  a  strange  paradox  the  privileged 
classes  held  the  noblest  theories  of  Hfe,  while  apt 
to  practice  in  their  lives  complete  unscrupulousness 
of  conduct;  and,  though  materialists  to  excess, 
affected  the  abstract  ideas  of  Platonism. 

Particularly  were  they  absorbed  by  Plato's 
doctrine  of  ideas,  and  learned  from  it  to  regard 
abstractions  —  Beauty,  Love  and  so  forth  —  as 
having  actual  existence,  independent  of  the  con- 
crete, particular  examples  in  which  they  might  be 
manifested;  the  particular  being  indeed  related 
to  the  general  as  species  to  genus.  It  was  upon 
this  understanding  of  ideas  that  the  artists  based 
the  idealism  of  their  painting. 

In  the  earHer  days  of  the  Renaissance  the 
painters  strove  to  picture  the  incidents  of  the 
Bible  story,  and  the  subjects  of  death,  judgment, 


THE  ITALIAN  RENAISSANCE        33 

heaven,  hell,  as  naturally  as  possible.  But,  as 
scholars  passed  on  to  them  the  lessons  of  Plato, 
they  began  to  idealize  their  pictures  by  investing 
the  concrete  subject  with  an  abstract  beauty  of 
presentment.  Accordingly,  they  built  up  with 
lines  of  grace  and  grandeur  and  with  masses, 
harmoniously  juxtaposed,  gracious  and  stately 
compositions,  based  upon  elaborations  of  geometric 
design.  To  do  this,  they  were  compelled  to  aban- 
don the  natural  treatment  of  the  figures.  The 
grouping  had  to  conform  to  the  constructive 
dignity  of  the  design;  the  poses  and  gestures  were 
regulated  to  the  demands  of  abstract  beauty,  and 
even  the  character  of  the  heads  was  ennobled  to 
harmonize  with  the  general  dignity.  Thus,  to 
secure  an  abstract  perfection  of  beauty  in  the 
whole,  the  particulars,  composing  it,  were  also 
invested  with  a  physical  harmony  of  beauty, 
transcending  that  of  Nature.  The  Itahan  ideal- 
ism, in  fact,  was  based  not  on  the  facts  of  Life, 
but  on  a  theory  of  imaginary  perfection.  Hu- 
manity was  exalted  above  mankind  and  the 
environment  was  treated  as  a  background  to  its 
preeminence. 

This  form  of  ideal  motive  was  in  complete  accord 
with  the  notions  held  regarding  the  universe,  and 
with  the  position  of  superiority  enjoyed  by  the 
privileged  few.  For  it  was  not  until  1543  that 
Copernicus  pubHshed  his  "hypothesis"  of  the 
revolution  of  the  planets  around  the  sun.    This 


34  ART  FOR  LIFE'S  SAKE 

was  condemned  by  the  Church  and  the  belief 
persisted  that  the  earth  was  the  center  of  the 
universe  and  man  the  pivot  on  which  all  revolved. 
It  was  easy  to  pass  from  this  to  a  behef  in  the 
divine  ordinance  of  the  privileged  few  and  particu- 
larly to  the  right  of  preeminence  inherent  in  the 
one  or  two  superlatively  big  men,  and  to  the 
magnifying  and  exalting  of  their  divine  right  at 
the  expense  of  their  human  environment. 

Moreover,  this  attitude  of  adulation  toward  the 
big  man  was  complemented  by  the  so-called 
"Platonic"  attitude  toward  woman;  not  toward 
women  in  general  but  the  privileged  few  who  shone 
in  the  luster  of  courtly  life.  Their  adulators 
exalted  them  to  a  pedestal  of  unnatural  perfection 
and  worshiped  them  not  for  their  actual  merits 
but  as  symbols  of  the  abstract  idea  of  womanhood, 
as  being  the  perfected  expression  of  beauty. 
Their  devotion,  while  it  lavished  incense  on  the 
physical  as  well  as  spiritual  perfection  of  woman, 
was  aimed  at  no  actual  union  of  their  lives  with  the 
objects  of  their  adoration.  It  represented  a  purely 
intellectual  and,  possibly,  spiritual  satisfaction  of 
an  Idea,  artificially  constructed  in  their  minds. 

It  is  not  difficult  to  trace  in  detail  the  influence 
of  these  conditions  of  society  upon  the  painting 
of  the  time,  especially  as  the  enthusiasm  for  Greek 
culture  demanded  of  the  artist  the  treatment  of 
mythological  subjects.  Then  the  great  man 
took  his  place  as  a  god,  and  woman  was  trans- 


THE  ITALIAN  RENAISSANCE        35 

figured  into  a  goddess.  In  fact,  the  beautiful 
system  of  Italian  idealism,  in  its  psychology, 
ignored  humanity  at  large  and  the  actual  world 
which  environs  it  and  exalted  the  privileged, 
investing  the  superiority  of  the  few  with  a  divine 
right  of  preeminence,  and  also  with  an  unnatural 
perfection.  It  was  perfectly  right  and  fitting  that 
it  should,  for  Art  was  simply  responding  to  the 
conditions  of  a  social  system  which  upheld  and 
basked  in  the  splendor  of  the  privileged  hfe. 

During  the  High  Renaissance  of  the  sixteenth 
century,  when  Itahan  ideal  painting  was  at  its 
zenith,  the  ideal  also  of  the  divine  right  of  privilege* 
reached  its  climax  in  the  person  of  Charles  V, 
King  of  Spain  and  of  the  Spanish  possessions  be- 
yond the  seas,  he  ruled  the  Netherlands,  domi- 
nated Italy  and  was  emperor  of  Austria  and 
Germany.  Not  content,  he  made  constant  but 
fruitless  attempts  to  conquer  France.  Only  Eng- 
land escaped  the  hunger  of  his  ambition.  Nor 
was  he  satisfied  to  rule  his  subjects  and  tax  them 
for  his  perpetual  wars  of  aggrandizement;  he  also 
claimed  dominion  over  their  souls  and  everywhere 
put  to  fire  and  sword  the  followers  of  the  Reforma- 
tion. A  patron  and,  at  times,  a  director  of  Art, 
he  made  Titian  the  painter  of  his  august  person, 
observing  that  only  the  greatest  artist  of  his  time 
was  fit  to  commemorate  Caesar.  Among  Titian's 
portraits  of  his  patron  is  the  superb  equestrian 
portrait,  now  in  the  Prado  Museum  in  Madrid. 


36  ART  FOR  LIFERS  SAKE 

It  represents  the  emperor  riding  forth  in  the 
rosy  glow  of  a  spring  day  to  his  conquest  of  the 
Protestant  Princes  at  the  Battle  of  Miihlberg. 
The  picture  is  beyond  words  noble  and  magnificent, 
but  the  emperor's  face  is  pallid  with  sickness  and 
the  grim  underhanging  jaw,  fixed  hard,  not  only 
with  determination  but  with  pain.  For  Charles 
was  by  this  time  eaten  up  with  gout  and  debilitated 
by  his  life  of  exaggerated  activity  and  his  physical 
excesses.  This  was  the  last  of  his  conquests:  a 
futile  one,  since  the  flood  of  reform  was  only 
temporarily  checked,  while  the  menace  of  himself 
was  drawing  to  its  close.  Eight  years  later,  in 
1555,  he  laid  down  the  burden  of  authority  and 
retired  to  the  monastery  of  San  Yuste,  where  for 
three  years  he  dabbled  in  politics  from  a  distance, 
played  with  clocks  and  watches,  and  indulged  his 
inordinate  appetite  for  eating  and  drinking. 
Meanwhile  he  sought  the  consolations  of  religion 
and  died  with  his  gaze  upon  The  Gloria^  a  canvas 
in  which  Titian  depicted  his  patron,  kneeling  in 
Heaven  before  the  Holy  Trinity,  while  the  Virgin 
pleads  in  his  behalf.  The  death  of  Charles  V 
marks  the  passing  of  the  old  era  of  undisputed 
privilege.  The  Hollanders  freed  themselves  from 
the  tyranny  of  divine  rights  and  in  establishing 
their  liberty  as  a  nation  developed  a  new  ideal  of 
life  and  gave  expression  to  it  in  a  new  form  of 
the  art  of  painting. 


CHAPTER  V 

TEE  SCIENTIFIC-ARTISTIC  ORGANIZA- 
TION OF  HOLLAND  IN  THE  SEVEN- 
TEENTH CENTURY 

IT  was  in  1555  that  Charles  V  handed  over  to 
his  son,  Philip  II,  his  kingdom  of  Spain  and 
possessions  beyond  the  sea,  as  well  as  do- 
minion over  the  lives  and  consciences  of  his  "dear 
Netherlanders."  They  had  been  the  richest  jewel 
in  the  imperial  crown,  contributing  two  thirds  of 
the  taxes  which  the  monarch  levied  on  his  whole 
vast  possessions.  For  while  the  northern  prov- 
inces of  the  Netherlands  were  chiefly  engaged  in 
fisheries,  cattle  raising  and  dairy  produce,  the 
southern  provinces,  which  today  comprise  Bel- 
gium, represented  the  greatest  commercial  and 
industrial  center  in  Europe.  Their  looms  pro- 
duced the  finest  weaves  in  tapestries,  velvet,  cloth 
and  hnen;  their  workshops  the  finest  craftsman- 
ship in  gold  and  silver  ware;  while  Antwerp  was 
the  great  emporiima  and  distributing  center  for 
the  trade  from  the  East;  four  hundred  ships  daily 
passing  in  or  out  of  her  harbor  and  two  thousand 
merchants  daily  thronging  her  exchange.  Brus- 
sels, the  seat  of  the  vice-regal  government,  was  a 


38  ART  FOR  LIFERS  SAKE 

city  of  palaces,  set  amid  gardens  and  parks,  and 
it  was  here  in  the  hall  of  the  Knights  of  the  Golden 
Fleece,  the  most  highly  esteemed  Order  in  Europe, 
that  Charles  turned  over  this  industrious  and 
prosperous  people  to  his  weakling  son,  as  if  they 
had  been  a  herd  of  sheep  for  him  to  fleece  or 
butcher  at  his  will. 

Yet  such  was  the  acquiescence  in  the  divine 
right  of  privilege  then  prevalent,  that  probably 
neither  Wilham  of  Orange,  on  whose  arm  the 
Emperor  leaned  as  he  tottered  into  the  hall,  nor 
any  other  of  the  Netherland  nobles  nor  any  of 
the  burgesses  or  scholars  who  witnessed  the  pro- 
ceeding, had  the  least  inkling  of  its  anomaly. 
Nevertheless,  the  day  of  questioning  was  near. 

Only  eleven  years  transpired  before  William  of 
Orange  and  these  same  nobles  formed  a  League  of 
Nobles  to  present  a  "Request"  to  the  vice-regent, 
praying  that  the  Inquisition  and  edicts  against 
heresy  might  be  withdrawn  and  the  management 
of  their  own  affairs  restored  to  the  Estates-General. 
Philip  replied  by  dispatching  Alva  and  ten  thou- 
sand troops,  who  inaugurated  the  "  Spanish  Fury," 
in  which  eighteen  thousand  six  hundred  persons 
were  put  to  death,  beside  those  who  were  killed 
in  armed  resistance.  Notwithstanding  these  enor- 
mities the  Netherlanders  were  so  habituated  to  the 
idea  of  divine  right,  that  they  attributed  their 
troubles  not  to  Philip  but  his  emissaries,  and  it  was 
not  xmtil  1581  that  the  northern  provinces  finally 


HOLLAND  IN  17TH  CENTURY        39 

severed  their  connection  with  the  southern  and 
issued  at  The  Hague  their  Declaration  of  Inde- 
pendence. 

Thus,  sixty  years  after  Luther  made  his  decla- 
ration at  the  Diet  of  Worms  on  behalf  of  responsi- 
bility of  conscience  and  religious  Hberty,  was 
proclaimed  the  Hberty  of  a  people  to  choose  its 
own  form  of  political  government.  It  took 
sixty-seven  years  of  struggle  before  the  Hberty 
was  confirmed  to  the  Hollanders  by  the  Treaty  of 
Westphalia.  Meanwhile,  during  this  period  of 
fighting,  interrupted  only  by  a  truce  of  twelve 
years,  the  Hollanders  were  building  up  a  nation 
upon  modern  lines  of  scientific-artistic  organiza- 
tion, and  developed  a  new  art  in  direct  response 
to  their  new  need  of  life  and  desire  of  living. 

The  Hollanders  were  sturdily  practical;  but 
they  were  idealists,  also.  Their  idealism,  however, 
was  not  directed  toward  imagining  a  Hfe  of 
unattainable  perfection;  but  was  expended  in 
making  the  conditions  of  the  actual  everyday 
Hfe  as  perfect  as  possible.  Correspondingly, 
their  artists  treated  the  subjects  of  ordinary  Hfe, 
but  enhanced  their  significance  and  beauty  by 
the  ideal  of  loving,  conscientious  and  accompHshed 
craftsmanship. 

There  was  scarcely  a  branch  of  human  activity, 
open  to  the  men  of  that  day,  in  which  the  Hol- 
landers did  not  engage ;  developing  it  always  to  a 
high  pitch  of  efl&ciency.     They  signalized  the 


40  ART  FOR  LIFE'S  SAKE 

raising  of  the  siege  of  Leyden,  early  in  the  war,  by 
establishing  in  that  city  a  university,  which  soon 
excelled  the  fame  of  Paris  and  Oxford.  They 
welcomed  the  weavers  from  Flanders  who  sought 
refuge  from  religious  persecution,  until  their  own 
country,  Holland,  took  the  place  of  Belgium  as  the 
European  center  of  the  industry.  They  became 
renowned  for  their  skill  in  constructing  mathe- 
matical and  astronomical  instruments  and  grinding 
diamonds.  They  experimented  with  grasses  until 
their  cattle  and  dairy  produce  were  the  finest  in 
Europe;  cultivated  the  potato  and  other  root 
vegetables  for  winter  use  and  so  stamped  out  the 
plague  of  scurvy;  enlarged  their  fisheries,  im- 
proved the  methods  of  curing  fish  and  developed 
a  great  naval  and  merchant  marine.  The  one 
swept  the  Spanish  from  the  seas  and  occupied  her 
foreign  possessions  in  India  and  the  Celebes,  while 
the  other  did  the  carrying  of  the  world's  commerce 
and  monopolized  the  most  lucrative  trade  in  spices. 
Amsterdam  took  the  place  of  Antwerp  as  the 
world's  comrriercial  metropolis;  her  exchange  was 
thronged  with  buyers  and  sellers  from  every 
country,  and  her  Bank,  the  first  scientifically 
estabHshed  institution  of  its  kind,  held  in  its  vaults 
the  wealth  of  kings,  emperors  and  the  world's 
merchant  princes. 

These  were  but  some  of  the  ways  in  which 
this  wonderful  people  in  their  new  need  of  life 
and  desire  of  living,  expanded  and  enhanced  by 


HOLLAND   IN   17TH   CENTURY       41 

liberty,  developed  their  material,  commercial  and 
intellectual  resources  and  proved  themselves  the 
pioneers  of  the  modern  world. 

Their  art  partakes  of  their  conditions.  Cut  oiGf 
by  their  revolt  from  the  splendor  of  the  vice-regal 
court  and  palace  life  and  by  their  acceptance  of 
the  Reformed  Faith  from  the  splendor  of  ec- 
clesiastical decoration,  the  Hollanders  had  no  use 
for  works  of  magnificence.  Their  artists  were 
required  to  paint  small  pictures  to  decorate  the 
rooms  of  burghers'  homes  or  larger  portrait  groups 
for  the  guildhall,  the  boardroom  of  a  hospital,  or 
the  banquet  chamber  of  a  miUtary  company. 
With  the  exception  of  these  "Corporation  Pic- 
tures," the  art  of  Holland  was  expended  on  small 
canvases  carried  to  a  high  pitch  of  workmanlike 
perfection.  In  fact,  the  School  of  Holland,  carry- 
ing on  the  old  Flemish  tradition  of  craftsmanship, 
presents  the  most  accomplished  array  of  painters  in 
the  history  of  art.  To  say  that  it  was  a  natural- 
istic school,  taking  for  its  subject  the  external 

r-jyorld,  does  not  sufficiently  dijfferentiate  its  motive; 

Lfor  naturahsm  during  the  seventeenth  century 
ruled  in  Spanish  art  and  even  in  Italian.;  The 
distinction  of  the  School  was  the  quality  of  its 
naturalism,  which  may  be  summed  up  in  the  word 
"moral.''  I  use  the  word  as  indicating  a  purpose, 
actuated  by  pride  in  oneself  and  one's  work  and  by 
loyalty  to  the  best  that  is  in  one  to  render  the  work 
as  worthily,  thoroughly  and  beautifully  as  possible. 


I 


42  ART  FOR  LIFE'S  SAKE 

This  was  the  code  of  Life,  not  promulgated  in 
theories  but  practiced  in  conduct,  which  char- 
acterized the  nation  as  a  whole  and  found  artistic 
expression  in  its  painters. 

Rembrandt  was  a  solitary  genius,  an  exception 
to  the  School,  in  that  he  was  not  satisfied  to  render 
the  external  aspect  of  humanity.  He  penetrated 
into  its  soul.  He  carried  the  idealism  of  the  School 
beyond  that  of  perfection  of  craftsmanship  and 
the  enhancing  of  the  significance  of  the  familiar 
into  depths  of  spiritual  intent.  But  again,  it  is 
characteristic  of  the  Hollander  in  him  that  his 
spiritual  expression  was  not  sublime  but  inti- 
mately, poignantly  human;  not  based  on  imagined 
perfection,  but  evoked  from  the  imperfection  of 
ordinary  human  lives. 

During  the  eighteenth  century  the  little  nation 
became  embroiled  in  foreign  poHtics,  and  gradually 
decUned  in  power.  Similarly,  its  painters  no  longer 
sought  their  motive  at  home.  They  became  in- 
volved in  the  reaction  toward  Classic  and  Italian 
art  which  spread  over  Europe.  They  became 
imitators  of  the  Italians'  method  and  looked  back 
to  their  national  art  of  the  previous  century  as 
being  vulgar  and  commonplace,  an  opinion  in 
which  the  rest  of  the  world  shared.  Even  Rem- 
brandt was  considered  a  vulgar,  slipshod  painter! 
*         *         *         -x-         -jt         ^  ■}«• 

It  was  reserved  for  the  nineteenth  century  to 
rediscover  his  greatness  and  the  general  merits  of 


HOLLAND   IN   17TH   CENTURY       43 

the  whole  School.  For,  once  more,  the  tide  of 
naturahsm  had  set  in.  It  was  the  result  of  the 
new  attitude  toward  individualism  and  nature. 
Pope's  assertion  the  "proper  study  of  mankind 
is  man''  received  increased  significance  and  gave 
impulse  to  scientists,  educators,  moralists,  his- 
torians, dramatists  and  artists.  Moreover  the  ap- 
plication of  steam  and  the  discoveries  of  science 
gave  a  new  impulse  to  man's  dominance  over 
nature.  Nature  and  Life  became  the  material 
which  the  practical  man  and  the  idealist  alike 
were  bent  on  organizing. 

In  the  field  of  painting  the  example  of  the 
English  naturahstic  painter.  Constable,  was  fol- 
lowed by  the  Barbizon  artists  in  France,  to  whom 
succeeded  Manet  and  the  other  impressionists, 
all  devoted  to  the  rendering  of  nature,  as  they 
saw  and  felt  it.  In  consequence  of  this  zeal  for 
nature  and  life  the  Dutch  art  of  the  seven- 
teenth century  has  come  again  into  rightful 
esteem. 

*         ^t  *  *  *  *  * 

The  foregoing  survey  of  these  periods  should 
demonstrate  that  Art  is  an  expression  of  what 
is  for  the  time  being  the  need  of  life  and  desire 
of  hving:  a  response  to  the  spirit  and  conditions 
of  the  community,  and  that  the  artistic  expres- 
sion of  a  people  varies  according  as  its  ideals 
incHne  to  the  aristocratic  or  democratic.  It 
should  also   show  by    inference    that,    while    a 


44  ART  FOR  LIFE'S  SAKE 

nation  may  borrow  principles  and  processes  from 
the  past,  its  only  real  inspiration  must  come 
from  within  itself.  Its  Art  must  not  be  an  imi- 
tation, but  a  growth  rooted  in  its  own  needs  and 
conditions  and  fostered  by  its  own  ideals!  ^ 


CHAPTER  VI 

LIFE: 
LIVING  AND  MAKING  A  LIVING 

"1^    JW  ^^  is  bom  unto  trouble/'  said  Job's 

I  \/ 1     comforter,  "  as  the  sparks  fly  upward." 

•*-  ▼  -^   This  submission  to  fatalism  mankind, 

until  recently,  has  accepted  as  an  axiom  of  Life 

and  done  its  best,  or  rather  its  worst,  to  justify. 

I  can  remember,  as  if  yesterday,  the  room  and 
the  exact  spot  in  it  where  I  was  standing,  as  a 
child,  when  my  father  in  so  many  words  told  me 
this  axiom  of  Life.  I  remember  too  my  bewilder- 
ment as  to  what  he  could  mean.  "We  are  bom 
to  sorrow?''  "Life  is  a  scheme  of  unhappiness? " 
I  could  not  understand.  The  idea  was  so  con- 
trary to  my  nature;  such  a  contradiction  of  my 
instinct. 

For  I  had,  what  every  healthy  child  has,  the 
instinct  of  the  joy  of  Hfe.  I  was  a  creature  of 
senses  and  sensibilities,  with  a  mind,  so  far  as  it 
was  developed,  absorbed  in  the  wonder  and  beauty 
of  Life,  and  in  the  fascination  of  receiving  impres- 
sions from  it.  I  had  not  yet  reached  the  stage  of 
experience.  It  was  out  of  his  experience  that  my 
father  spoke,  and  many  times  since  out  of  my  own 


46  ART  FOR  LIFE'S  SAKE 

experience  I  have  uttered  the  old  cry  of  despair  of 
the  fatahst. 

But  does  the  experience  of  the  man  prove  that 
the  instinct  of  the  child  is  wrong?  A  thousand 
times  no!  The  instinct  of  happiness,  born  anew 
in  every  child  of  man,  as  in  every  insect,  though 
its  span  of  life  be  measured  only  by  a  day,  is  the 
eternal  principle  of  Life.  The  experience  of  man, 
on  the  other  hand,  is  mainly  the  product,  so  far  as 
it  is  unhappy,  of  his  having  misunderstood  the 
principles  of  Life  and  accordingly  distorted  its 
purpose  and  development.  It  is  man's  experience 
of  Life  that  is  wrong  because  he  has  made  it 
wrong.  The  child's  instinct  is  right.  But,  alas! 
it  is  allowed  to  become  blunted,  subjected  to 
distortion,  and  too  often  atrophied  by  disuse. 
The  joy  of  the  child's  spirit  and  its  sense  of 
natural  participation  in  the  beauty  of  life  become 
smothered  in  the  cloak  of  experience. 

But  since  that  day  in  my  father's  study  the 
world  has  progressed.  Leaders  of  modem  thought, 
both  men  and  women,  are  taking  their  stand  upon 
an  axiom  of  Life  which  makes  happiness  and  not 
sorrow  the  basis  of  Life;  the  end  to  be  aimed  at 
and  achieved.  At  the  head  of  the  march  of  prog- 
ress are  the  men  of  science,  who  explore  the 
possibilities  of  Life  and  the  causes  which  impair 
the  health  and  happiness  of  Life  and  search  for 
antidotes  and  preventives.  They  are  not  alone 
the  medical  fraternity,  but  also  the  men  and 


LIFE  47 

women  engaged  in  all  branches  of  sociological 
research;  the  teachers  who  are  applying  science 
to  education;  the  engineers  and  inventors  who 
are  increasing  man's  dominion  over  the  resources 
of  nature  and  making  Life  more  productive  and 
capable  of  happiness,  and  such  leaders  of  industry 
as  are  applying  the  resources  of  science  not  only 
to  improved  production  but  also  to  the  better- 
ment of  those  who  labor. 

Society  is  in  ferment  with  new  Hope  in  the 
possibiUties  of  realizing  the  nation's  guarantee: 
Life,  Liberty  and  the  Pursuit  of  Happiness.  It 
is  a  hope  well  assured,  because  it  is  founded  not 
upon  theories  as  to  the  rights  of  man  but  upon 
the  facts  of  Life  and  Nature  and  Man's  relation 
thereto. 

Meanwhile,  it  has  to  be  admitted  that  progress 
is  slower  than  it  need  be.  Opposed  to  the  en- 
lightenment of  the  comparatively  few  ^e  the  in- 
difference and  ignorance  of  the  masses  of  mankind, 
still  subject  to  the  unscientific  and  unhopeful 
traditions  of  the  past  and  a  prey  to  the  greed  and 
selfishness  which  they  engender.  Self-interest, 
privilege  and  a  system  of  government  which  is 
more  concerned  with  the  welfare  of  party  and  the 
spoils  of  politicians  than  with  the  happiness  of 
mankind  and,  even  when  it  is  honest,  is  clogged  by 
antiquated  and  unscientific  machinery,  block  prog- 
ress either  with  active  opposition  or  dead  inertia. 
The  era  of  the  New  Democracy,  founded  actually 


48  ART  FOR  LIFE'S  SAKE 

upon  Life,  Liberty  and  the  Pursuit  of  Happiness, 
will  be  delayed  until  the  masses  of  men  and 
women  realize  the  beauty  of  it  and  band  them- 
selves together  to  achieve  it.  Then  mankind  will 
realize  Life  and  Liberty  in  a  "partnership  of  in- 
dustry entered  into  in  the  pursuit  of  happiness/' 
The  future  in  fact,  as  always,  depends  upon  the 
new  generation.  It  is  the  child  of  today  who  will 
be  the  New  Democrat  or  the  "Standpatter"  of 
tomorrow. 

It  is  one  of  the  hopeful  characteristics  of  our 
time  that  progress  is  being  based  upon  the  educa- 
tion of  the  child;  that  child-culture  is  no  longer  left 
to  the  haphazard  of  good  or  bad  parents,  but  is  be- 
coming recognized  as  a  first  responsibility  incum- 
bent on  the  community.  Whereas  the  ancients 
pictured  Destiny  and  the  Future  as  lying  in  the 
lap  of  the  gods,  we  more  beautifully,  because  more 
truthfully,  put  them  in  the  hands  of  our  children 
as  they  lie  in  the  laps  of  their  mothers. 

By  consequence,  therefore,  it  is  another  hopeful 
characteristic  of  our  time  that  the  sanctity  of 
Motherhood  and  Womanhood  is  beginning  to  be 
recognized  and  the  duty  of  the  community  in 
respect  to  them  is  coming  to  be  more  generally 
acknowledged.  The  world  is  no  longer  to  be  the 
man's  world,  but  the  woman's  world  also;  or 
rather  it  is  to  be  a  world  of  men  and  women, 
living  in  real  liberty  of  mutual  cooperation  in  the 
pursuit  of  happiness.    And  between  them  they 


LIFE  49 

will  see  to  it  that  preeminently  it  shall  be  the 
child's  world,  because  the  children  are  the 
potential  fathers  and  mothers,  thinkers  and 
doers  of  the  future.  For  the  Future  of  the  Race, 
now  for  the  first  time  in  the  history  of  civiH- 
zation,  is  the  definite  aim  of  everything  best  that 
is  being  done  and  thought  in  the  present.  This 
is  at  once  the  Faith  and  the  Hope  of  the  New 
Democracy. 

What,  then,  are  we  doing  for  the  children  to  fit 
them  to  be  the  artists  of  the  New  Democracy, 
to  fit  them  to  make  their  own  lives  and  the  lives 
of  all  more  beautiful?  Are  we  inspiring  them 
with  the  highest  ideal  of  Life;  equipping  them 
with  the  knowledge  of  Life  and  teaching  them  to 
compose  that  knowledge  according  to  the  princi- 
ples of  beauty  which  artists  apply  in  their  works 
of  Art?  Are  we  training  them  in  the  principles 
of  Fitness,  Unity,  Balance,  Harmony,  Rhythm, 
with  a  view  to  efficiency  (or  as  artists  would  say, 
expression),  by  which  alone  they  can  make  their 
own  hves  and  the  life  of  the  community  approxi- 
mate to  the  perfection  of  a  work  of  Art? 

I  am  too  little  informed  regarding  the  intricate 
questions  involved  in  the  modem  system  of  educa- 
tion to  have  the  effrontery  to  criticize.  But  I 
know  the  world  outside  the  schools;  and  know 
that  its  ideal  of  Life  is  distorted  and  imperfect  and 
that  the  children,  when  they  leave  school  and  enter 
into  the  world,  are  very  apt  to  be  swallowed  up  in 


50  ART  FOR  LIFE'S  SAKE 

its  imperfect  ideal  of  Life.  I  wonder,  therefore, 
whether  the  shadow  of  that  imperfect  ideal  is  not 
projected  back  even  on  to  the  school? 

For  the  world's  ideal  today  overlooks  one  im- 
portant element  of  Life.  It  concentrates  its 
energy  on  Making  a  Living  and  recks  little  of 
Living.  This  is  not  unaccountable.  Our  ideals 
are  rooted  in  the  past.  And  what  did  the  civiliza- 
tion of  the  past  do  to  promote  happy  and  healthy 
living  among  the  masses  of  the  people?  It  was 
only  a  privileged  few  who  enjoyed  the  privilege 
of  living  and  for  the  most  part  abused  it  by  ex- 
travagant self-indulgence.  Their  happiness,  or 
what  stood  to  them  for  happiness,  was  their  right; 
it  was  the  duty  of  the  masses  of  humanity  to 
contribute  to  it.  Our  roots  being  in  the  past  we 
also  have  produced  a  privileged  class  that  battens 
on  the  lives  of  the  masses.  Meanwhile,  it  is  to  our 
credit  that  we  have  adopted  the  new  attitude 
toward  Life;  namely,  that  labor  may  be  not  a 
curse  but  a  blessing. 

Our  modem  social  system  is  founded  on  In- 
dustry. It  was  a  necessity  that  it  should  be  so 
founded,  since  the  fathers  had  to  carve  a  new 
world  out  of  nature  and,  as  population  has  multi- 
plied, their  descendants  have  had  to  continue  and 
develop  the  process.  It  demanded  such  magnitude 
of  spirit  and  endeavor  and  the  resulting  achieve- 
ment is  so  marvelous,  that  it  is  little  wonder  that 
the  Nation,  as  a  unit,  has  elevated  the  making  of 


LIFE  SI 

a  Kving  into  the  ideal  of  Life.  The  nation's  ex- 
pressed ideal,  the  Pursuit  of  Happiness;  the  ideal 
of  life  toward  which  all  advanced  modern  thinkers 
and  doers  are  striving,  namely  the  leading  of 
beautiful  Kves,  is  regarded  as  of  smaller  account 
or  entirely  ignored. 

How  far  also,  I  wonder,  is  it  not  also  neglected 
in  preparing  our  children  for  life?  In  the  necessary 
fitting  of  the  children  to  take  their  part  in  what  is 
still  called  the  "struggle"  of  Ufe,  is  not  the  true 
ideal  of  Life,  beautiful  Living,  overlooked?  Is 
not  education  confined  too  exclusively  to  the 
practical  necessities  of  making  a  Uving  and  too 
little  concerned  with  the  fostering  of  a  high  ideal 
of  Hving?  Yet  the  latter  is  quite  as  necessary  if 
the  expressed  ideal  of  our  democracy,  Life,  Liberty 
and  the  Pursuit  of  Happiness,  is  to  be  reaHzed.  In 
a  word,  does  not  the  business  ideal  of  Hf  e  which  the 
world  holds,  overshadow  our  system  of  education? 

If  it  is  a  fact  that  the  future  making  of  a  living 
is  held  up  before  the  child  not  only  as  a  necessity, 
and  an  honorable  one,  but  also  as  the  chief  aim  in 
Life;  that  he  is  being  allowed  to  grow  up  with  the 
idea  that  success  in  business  is  the  absorbing  ideal 
of  Life,  then  a  false  issue  of  Life  is  being  presented 
to  the  child  from  the  start.  An  artificial  confusion 
is  being  created  as  to  the  ideas  involved  in  the 
practical  and  the  ideal,  and  a  too  narrow  appKca- 
tion  is  being  encouraged  of  the  twin  principles  of 
conduct,  "must''  and  "will." 


52  ART  FOR  LIFE'S  SAKE 

The  child's  creed  should  be:  "I  will  lead  a 
beautiful  life  and  therefore  I  must  work;  and  my 
work  which  is  necessary  shall  be  as  good  as  I  can 
make  it,  so  as  to  add  to  the  beauty  and  happiness 
of  living."  Unless  the  child  is  being  taught  such 
a  creed  and  is  being  trained  to  realize  it,  he  is  not 
getting  his  "rights  "in  the  light  of  the  New  Democ- 
racy. He  is  simply  being  fitted  to  perpetuate  the 
imperfect  ideals  of  an  old  democracy  that  is  still 
vitiated  by  the  aristocratic  system  out  of  which  it 
grew. 

One  hears  our  system  of  education  criticized 
because  it  does  not  adequately  fit  the  child  for  the 
making  of  a  living.  Insufficient  attention,  it  is 
said,  is  given  to  technical  and  manual  training  and 
to  the  instruction  in  domestic  science.  Much  has 
been  done  and  more  is  contemplated  with  a  view  to 
meeting  this  deficiency.  It  is  recognized  that,  if 
education  is  to  be  really  scientific,  it  must  be 
shaped  to  the  actual  needs  and  facts  of  the  child's 
necessity  of  making  a  living.  Education,  like  In- 
dustry itself,  must  be  more  specifically  organized. 

But  it  must  be  organized  to  prepare  the  child, 
not  only  to  make  a  living,  but  also  to  live.  For 
the  opportunity  of  labor  is  only  a  part  of  the 
right  of  every  individual  in  a  true  democracy. 
He  must  also  have  the  opportunity  of  leisure. 
The  first  is  a  practical  necessity  of  his  existence; 
the  second,  a  means  of  realizing  his  ideals. 


y 


CHAPTER  VII 
ORGANIZED  EDUCATION 

SHALL  the  scientific  education  of  the  child 
be  limited  to  the  means  of  life  and  withheld 
from  the  end  of  living?  Shall  education 
in  its  concentration  upon  the  necessarily  prac- 
tical, ignore  the  equally  necessary  element  of  the 
ideal?  There  can  be  no  doubt  that  advanced 
educators  recognize  the  need  of  both  and  are 
working  to  satisfy  it.  The  difficulty  which  they 
encounter  is  largely  the  result  of  the  insistence  of 
the  necessary  and  practical  in  teaching,  as  in  the 
world  itself. 

For  the  child  has  been  given  a  good  true  start' 
in  the  kindergarten.  There  the  system  is  accom- 
modated to  the  child's  Nature.  The  training  is 
based  upon  its  Instincts :  its  instinct  to  play  and 
to  do  something,  its  instincts  of  curiosity  and 
imitation.  It  is  based  also  upon  the  child's 
Senses.  The  sense  of  touch,  sight  and  hearing 
are  gratified  and  developed.  In  response  to  its 
instincts  and  guided  by  its  senses,  the  child 
learns  to  do  something  and  make  something,  in  the 
doing  and  making  of  which  it  finds  happiness. 


54  ART  FOR  LIFE'S  SAKE 

It  is,  by  the  way,  a  saying  of  Rodin's  that  every 
one  who  finds  happiness  in  his  work  is  an  artist. 
While  he  may  not  have  meant  the  remark  to  be 
taken  with  absolute  literalness,  he  meant  it  to  be 
taken  with  complete  seriousness.  For  the  first 
condition  of  artistic  work  is  that  the  artist  shall 
find  happiness  in  the  doing  of  it.  He  injects  into 
his  work  of  Art  what  he  feels  of  beaiity  and  his 
joy  of  Life,  and  a  sense  of  beauty  and  of  the  joy 
of  Life  is  imparted  by  the  work  of  Art  to  those 
who  heed  its  message. 

In  the  kindergarten,  then,  reliance  is  placed  on 
the  child's  natural  equipment  of  instincts  and 
senses.  These  and  the  child's  physical  well-being 
are  made  the  basis  of  his  work  and  play.  His 
play  is  organized  and  he  learns  to  find  happiness 
in  his  work.  The  system  recognizes  the  potential 
artist  in  every  child  and  seeks  to  develop  the 
natural  gift. 

Thus,  in  the  kindergarten  the  child  receives 
its  first  Organized  Training  in  Life,  Liberty  and 
the  Pursuit  of  Happiness.  The  training  is  thor- 
oughly scientific,  being  based  on  the  facts  of  the 
child's  nature.  It  is  designed  to  evolve  the 
growth  of  the  child  from  within  itself,  by  contact 
with  the  world  outside,  to  develop  the  potential 
artist  in  the  child,  and  to  make  him  a  little  master 
of  himself,  at  the  same  time  inculcating  the  social 
habit  by  teaching  him  to  recognize  the  rights  of 
other  children  and  his  duty  in  respect  to  them. 


ORGANIZED  EDUCATION  55 

Then  he  enters  the  primary  school,  and  a 
change  ensues.  Work  and  play  are  separated. 
Too  often  the  school  system  undertakes  no 
responsibility  as  to  play;  the  child  is  left  to  find 
it  how  and  when  he  can;  usually  not  in  harmony 
but  in  bitter  rivalry  with  his  playmates.  Work 
starts  off  uninterestingly,  for  it  is  not  associated 
with  doing  or  making  things,  but  in  committing 
what  seem  stupid  facts  to  memory.  For  it  is 
the  child's  mind  that  is  now  taken  in  hand  to  be 
trained.  His  physical  development  receives  little 
attention;  his  instincts  and  the  clamor  of  his 
senses  are  scarcely  heeded;  his  love  of  doing 
things  and  making  things  is  allowed  to  lapse; 
his  love  of  beauty  dissociated  from  his  work  and 
play  and  treated,  if  at  all,  as  a  separate  study. 
The  development  of  the  artist  in  him  is  arrested. 
It  is,  in  fact,  no  longer  the  whole  of  him,  but  a 
part  that  is  being  developed. 

Nor  is  he  given  his  full  rights  even  in  the 
matter  of  his  mental  development.  He  is  taught 
a  great  many  necessary  facts  and  equipped  more 
or  less  efficiently  for  the  making  of  a  living. 
But  how  much  is  he  taught  conceriting  the  facts 
of  his  own  physical,  emotional  and  mental  self 
and  the  facts  of  the  world  in  which  he  is  to  take 
his  part?  He  is  encouraged  to  be  self-reliant 
and  independent,  yet  defrauded  of  the  knowledge 
on  which  alone  the  sense  of  Moral  Responsibility 
can  be  effectually  based. 


S6  ART  FOR  LIFE'S  SAKE 

Meanwhile  new  instincts  are  stirring;  the 
instincts,  most  insistent,  of  adolescence.  The 
boy  and  girl  are  troubled  with  physical  and 
mental  disturbance;  they  are  a  prey  to  unrest, 
bewilderment,  shame,  fear;  by  turns  puzzled, 
abashed,  disheartened.  They  are  facing  the 
mystery  of  Life  in  themselves;  generally  in 
ignorance  and  with  no  one  to  help  them.  For 
it  is  the  amazing  stupidity  of  our  curriculum 
that  it  makes  either  scant  or  no  provision  for 
training  in  the  one  subject  that  is  of  supreme 
importance:  namely.  Life  and  Living.  For  the 
parents  are  content  to  leave  it  to  the  teachers, 
and  the  teachers  to  the  parents;  and  mostly 
the  boy  and  girl  are  left  to  discover  the  knowl- 
edge for  themselves.  If  they  succeed  in  acquir- 
ing it,  it  is  too  often  from  undesirable  sources 
and  in  distorted  form. 

But  to  have  a  knowledge  of  themselves  im- 
parted properly  to  them  is  not  the  only  right 
of  the  young.  They  have  a  right  to  a  scientific- 
ally organized  training  that  will  enable  them  to 
apply  the  knowledge  and  to  solve  the  problem 
which  their  instincts  have  created.  They  have 
a  right  to  be  taught  the  high  ideal  of  the  Sanc- 
tity and  Joy  of  Life,  and  to  have  their  body 
and  senses  as  well  as  their  mind  efficiently  de- 
veloped not  only  for  the  Work  of  Life  but  also 
for  the  Beauty  of  Living. 

For  Beauty,  the  Beauty  of  Life  and  Living, 


ORGANIZED  EDUCATION  57 

the  watchword  of  the  New  Democracy,  must 
become  the  watchword  of  Education.  Beauty 
must  no  longer  be  treated  solely  as  a  matter  of 
lines  and  shapes  and  colors,  to  be  discussed  only 
in  classes  of  the  art-instructor.  Beauty  of  Life 
and  Living  must  be  put  at  the  head  of  the  cur- 
riculum and  made  to  permeate  the  whole  of  it. 
Every  department  must  be  dedicated  to  this 
high  Ideal  in  the  Pursuit  of  Happiness.  Beauty 
of  Life  and  Living,  the  instinct  born  in  every 
child,  still  remains  an  instinct  of  the  adult,  but 
has  become  perverted  or  atrophied  by  non- 
development.  Hence  the  distortion  of  our  ideals. 
For  we  live  in  a  world  of  such  material  prog- 
ress that  our  standard  of  values  has  become 
deranged.  We  have  grown  to  believe  that  lux- 
uries of  life,  colossal  trade,  stupendous  stores 
and  office  buildings,  speed  elevators,  rapid  tran- 
sit, tickers,  telephones  and  a  thousand  other 
contrivances  and  achievements  are  evidences 
of  superior  civilization.  What  they  do  attest 
is  the  superior  possibilities  of  civilization  now 
existing.  But  they  are  only  a  means  to  a  higher 
civilization;  they  are  not  in  themselves  the  great 
desideratum.  Yet  they  have  come  to  be  regarded 
as  such,  and,  since  they  cost  money  and  a  vast 
amount  of  money,  to  get  money  and  still  more 
money  has  become  the  prime  necessity  of  life; 
the  ideal  that  we  hold  before  us  in  the  making  of 
a  living  and  the  standard  by  which  we  gauge 


S8  ART  FOR  LIFE'S  SAKE 

and  teach  our  children  to  gauge  Success  or  Fail- 
ure in  Life.  Even  some  of  the  modern  supple- 
ments to  religion  make  success  in  business  a 
feature  of  their  faith.  Meanwhile  this  colossal 
structure  of  materialism  is  built  upon  the  lives  of 
men  and  women  and  children;  the  mad  struggle 
for  material  progress  is  like  a  juggernaut  car,  be- 
neath which  tens  of  thousands  voluntarily  hurl 
themselves,  while  ten  times  ten  thousand  are 
crushed  by  it  with  no  choice  allowed  them.  Yet 
the  nation's  guarantee  is  still  in  writing:  "Life, 
Liberty  and  the  Pursuit  of  Happiness!" 

However,  it  is  none  the  less  true  that  Americans 
are  a  nation  of  idealists.  Even  the  colossal 
materialism  is  not  entirely  sordid.  It  is,  indeed, 
impregnated  with  a  sort  of  idealism.  Filled 
with  the  idea  that  the  making  of  a  living  is  the 
supreme  end  of  Life,  vast'  numbers  of  men  display 
extraordinary  zeal  for  the  highest  possible  develop- 
ment of  this  ideal,  and  shrink  from  no  heroism 
to  achieve  it.  They  are  building  up  business 
not  only  for  selfish  ends  but  in  pride  of  city, 
state  and  country.  Fired  with  this  ideal  of 
material  advancement,  they  sacrifice  life  and 
enslave  liberty  to  business  and  court  death  — 
too  often  an  early  one  —  in  the  pursuit  of  what 
they  have  made  their  happiness  —  namely,  the 
elevation  of  making  a  living  to  the  eminence  of 
being  the  supreme  end  of  Life.  Since  they  are 
willing  to  lay  down  their  own  lives  in  the  achieve- 


ORGANIZED  EDUCATION  59 

ment  of  their  ideal  they  do  not  hesitate  to  sacri- 
fice the  life,  liberty  and  happiness  of  others. 
"It  is  all  a  part  of  the  game,"  they  say;  forget- 
ting that  their  victims  are  not  in  the  game  from 
choice  or  regulating  its  play  to  an  ideal,  but  are 
pawns  in  a  game  not  their  own,  compelled  thereto 
by  the  sheerest  need  of  a  minimum  of  food, 
shelter  and  clothing. 

On  the  other  hand  there  are  not  lacking  idealists 
of  the  higher  kind,  whose  ideal  is  directed  toward 
the  Betterment  of  Living.  Indeed,  they  abound 
throughout  the  length  and  breadth  of  the  country. 
Some  preach  from  pulpits,  editorial  desks  and 
library  chairs;  some  teach  in  classrooms;  others 
go  down  and  mingle  with  the  masses  and  try  to 
ameUorate  their  lot;  still  others  are  organized 
into  agencies  to  improve  the  conditions  of  life 
and  alleviate  the  disabilities  that  interfere  with 
liberty  and  the  pursuit  of  happiness.  Further- 
more, there  are  merchants  and  manufacturers 
whose  ideal  of  Life  is  not  confined  to  business 
but  embraces  Living.  And  they  are  sharing  this 
ideal  with  their  employees  by  advancing  the 
latters'  opportunity  of  Life,  Liberty  and  the 
Pursuit  of  Happiness.  These  are  the  practical 
idealists,  whose  success  in  business  makes  it 
impossible  to  say  that  they  are  pursuing  a  chi- 
maera,  that  they  are  faddists,  armchair  theorists 
or  any  other  species  of  unpractical  visionaries. 
They  have  put  their  idealism  into  practice,  and 


6o  ART  FOR  LIFE'S  SAKE 

have  proved  by  practical  experience  that  their 
ideahsm  can  be  a  vitalizing  force  in  business. 

It  was  one  of  these  men  who  gave  me,  when  I 
was  new  to  this  country,  my  first  insight  into 
what  Democracy  will  involve  when  men  live  up 
to  what  it  stands  for.  I  was  traveling  from  New 
York  to  Boston  by  a  Sound  boat  and  after  dinner 
went  on  deck  to  enjoy  the  sunset.  I  found  myself 
in  conversation  with  a  man  who  was  similarly 
occupied.  From  talking  about  the  beauty  of 
the  evening  we  drifted  to  talk  about  beauty  in 
pictures.  Evidently  he  loved  them  and  was 
familiar  with  the  work  of  American  painters. 
To  my  inquiry  whether  he  had  seen  the  pictures 
of  the  Old  World  he  replied  that  the  necessities 
of  his  business  had  made  it  impossible  for  him  to 
travel  abroad.  It  seemed  sad,  I  remarked,  that 
one  who  was  so  fond  of  Beauty  should  be  denied 
the  opportunity  of  seeing  the  world's  beautiful 
things.  He  smiled  indulgently.  "You  have  not 
grasped,"  he  said,  "our  American  ideal.  For 
myself,  I  am  willing  to  forego  the  beauties  of 
Art  in  the  Old  World  if  I  can  help  on  the  Beauty 
of  Life  in  this  New  World.  If  by  working  over- 
time and  all  the  time  myself,  I  can  shorten  the 
hours  of  work  for  those  who  come  after  me  and 
improve  the  conditions  of  work,  making  it  not 
only  more  efiicient  but  less  exacting,  so  that 
people  may  have  more  time  and  opportunity 
and  capacity  to  enjoy  the  Beauty  of  Living,  I 


ORGANIZED  EDUCATION  6i 

am  satisfied."  And  then  he  quoted  the  Nation's 
guarantee:  "Life,  Liberty  and  the  Pursuit  of 
Happiness." 

That  was  many  years  ago,  and  the  man  was 
Edgar  Filene  of  Filene  Brothers,  engaged  with 
their  employees  in  a  "Partnership  of  Industry 
in  Pursuit  of  Happiness"  in  one  of  Boston's 
largest  department  stores.  Today,  who  shall 
number  the  men  who  are  actuated  by  a  like 
spirit?  They  are  still,  however,  the  exception, 
not  the  rule.  Yet  their  very  numbers  prove 
that  the  instinct  of  the  Beauty  of  Life  and  Living 
is  widespread  and  is  developing  opportunities 
of  realizing  itself. 

The  greater,  therefore,  the  reason  why  the 
New  Generation  should  be  trained  in  the  science 
and  art  of  living,  that  it  may  efficiently  occupy 
these  "openings"  and  increase  their  number. 

Imagine  a  new  generation,  marching  into  the 
world  with  its  millions  of  young  bodies  and  souls, 
united  in  a  phalanx  under  the  flag  of  Beauty, 
inspired  by  the  ideal  of  the  Beauty  of  Life  and 
Living,  equipped  with  the  Science  of  Life  and 
Living  and  trained  by  Art  to  organize  their 
Science  into  effective  practice!  It  is  a  Dream? 
Aye,  but  a  dream  of  hope  that  is  real  and  will 
in  time  be  realized.  For  it  is  founded  upon  a 
fact;  the  Instinct  of  Humanity  in  its  Desire  of 
Life,  Liberty  and  Pursuit  of  Happiness. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

TEE  WORLD'S  NEED  OF  ART 

• 

THIS  book,  I  hope,  will  make  it  clear  that 
Art  is  essential  to  Life;  that  without  it 
we  cannot  conceive  of  Human  Better- 
ment. Meanwhile,  in  the  present  narrow  under- 
standing of  the  scope  and  capability  of  Art,  it  is 
apt  to  be  regarded  as  a  mere  commodity  of  com- 
merce, or  an  embellishment  and  caprice  of  wealth. 
A  few  days  ago,  I  was  sitting  in  an  Arts  Club 
and  could  not  help  overhearing  the  conversation 
of  four  men.  Their  talk  was  of  artists  and 
pictures,  but  it  might  just  as  well  have  been 
about  hogs  and  lard,  for  the  price  at  which  they 
could  buy  and  the  increased  price  at  which  they 
hoped  to  sell  was  the  only  aspect  of  the  subject 
that  interested  them.  Nor  is  it  an  imcommon 
thing  to  hear  collectors  who  are  honored  as 
patrons  of  American  art,  boast  of  their  having 
taken  advantage  of  the  artistes  necessities.  "I 
gave  So-and-so  $200.00  for  that  picture  to  save 
him  from  being  put  out  by  the  sheriff,  and  today 
I  could  get  for  it  ten  times  that  amount."  Or 
again,  there  is  the  collector  who  boasts  of  the 
large  sums  he  pays. 


WORLD'S  NEED  OF  ART  63 

I  could  mention  the  name  —  well  known 
throughout  the  country  —  of  a  man  whom  his 
professional  colleagues,  while  they  recognize  the 
force  of  his  personality,  know  to  be  crooked  and 
a  bully.  His  whole  life  has  been  a  negation  of 
the  beautiful  and  has  been  built  up  on  the  ruin  of 
the  beauty  of  other  people's  lives,  yet  he  visits 
the  art-dealers'  galleries  in  pursuance  of  his 
hobby  as  a  collector.  He  marks  down  his  quarry 
like  a  creature  of  prey  and  "goes  for  it"  with  the 
grim  determination  and  absence  of  all  human 
feeUng  that  have  distinguished  his  professional 
operations  and  made  him  a  menace  to  local  and 
national  welfare.  Is  there  hidden  away  in  his 
impenetrable  super-individuaHsm  some  instinct 
for  beauty,  or  is  he  only  gratifying  the  grossness 
of  his  egoism  by  the  acquisition  of  that  which 
will  demonstrate  the  superiority  of  his  judgment 
and  excite  the  envy  of  other  collectors?  Who 
shall  decide?  Perhaps  it  were  fairer  to  assume 
that  both  motives  influence  him;  in  which  respect 
he  is  an  exaggerated  type  of  thousands  of  less 
conspicuous  people  in  this  country.  They  have, 
though  they  will  not  acknowledge  it,  an  instinct 
of  beauty  but  they  cloak  the  pursuit  of  it  under 
a  more  or  less  avowed  purpose  of  treating  it 
solely  as  a  commercial  commodity. 

I  was  talking  to  a  friend  who  knows  this  man 
in  the  way  of  business.  "The  weak  spot,"  said 
my  friend,    "in  your   suggestion  to  make  the 


64  ART  FOR  LIFERS  SAKE 

Beauty  of  Life  and  Living  the  supreme  end  of 
Life  is  that  a  generation,  imbued  with  this  ideal 
and  living  up  to  it,  would  be  at  the  mercy  of 
just  such  lawless,  predatory  egoists  as  the  man 
in  question.  His  dirty  and  selfish  tricks  must 
be  fought  with  similar  weapons.  Would  you  con- 
vert society  into  lambs  for  the  ravening  wolves 
of  this  man's  breed?'* 

But,  surely,  such  a  reasoning  overlooks  two 
very  important  facts.  One  is,  that  it  is  under 
conditions  as  they  are  that  lambs  a  plenty  have 
been  sacrificed  to  the  maws  of  this  wolf.  The 
second  is,  that  his  power  for  evil  is  based  on  the 
widely  accepted  axioms  "business  is  business" 
and  "sentiment  does  not  enter  into  business." 
He  is  but  one  wolf  in  a  vast  pack  of  wolves,  who 
would  emulate  his  excess  of  wolfishness  if  they 
had  his  brains  and  opportunity.  It  is  the  envy 
and  emulation  of  the  pack  which  make  him  so 
formidable. 

By  the  time  that  a  clean  and  high  ideal  of 
Living  penetrates  also  the  ethics  of  Making  a 
Living,  such  unclean  beasts  of  prey  as  this  man 
will  not  be  kings  of  the  pack.  They  will  be 
pariahs,  driven  from  decent  markets  and  habi- 
tations. That  this  consummation,  so  devoutly 
to  be  wished,  will  come,  we  are  bound  to  believe, 
unless  we  are  minded  to  forego  our  birthright  of 
democracy  and  tear  up  as  idle  words  the  writing: 
"Life,  Liberty  and  Pursuit  of  Happiness."    How 


WORLD'S  NEED  OF  ART  65 

soon  the  ideal  will  be  achieved  rests  with  the  New 
Generation  and  with  our  own,  which  has  the 
privilege  of  training  it  for  the  future. 

*         *         ■}«■**         *         * 

Let  us  picture  the  advent  of  Art  into  the  world. 
All  man's  advancement  has  been  the  product  of 
his  needs:  his  need  or  necessity  of  making  a 
living  and  the  need  or  desire  of  bettering  his  con- 
ditions. At  first,  for  example,  he  satisfied  his 
thirst  by  getting  down  on  his  hands  and  knees 
and  lapping  like  a  dog.  Then  he  bethought  him 
of  curving  his  hand  and  lifting  the  water  to  his 
lips,  and  after  some  time  hit  upon  the  notion  of 
fashioning  a  gourd  into  a  cup.  That  he  might 
know  his  own  cup  he  put  a  mark  upon  it  and  in 
time,  moved  by  the  instinct  for  bettering  what 
he  had  done,  added  some  fanciful  ornament. 

In  the  process  of  time  came  an  advancement, 
so  wonderful  that  the  old  poem-chronicle  identi- 
fied it  with  a  personality  and  made  his  name 
immortal.  Tubal  Cain  was  "instructor  of  every 
artificer  in  brass  and  iron."  For  by  this  time 
man  had  taken  a  natural  product,  converted  it 
by  heat  into  a  material  that  differed  in  its  con- 
stituents from  the  original  product,  and  then 
from  this  material  had  shaped  forms  of  his  own 
devising  to  fit  his  necessities  and  desires.  He 
had  justified  his  belief  that  he  was  made  in  the 
image  of  his  Creator;  not  in  the  anthropomorphic 
sense  which  led  men  to  fashion  gods  in  the  like- 


66  ART  FOR  LIFERS  SAKE 

ness  of  themselves;  but  because  he  had  discov- 
ered that  he,  too,  could  be  a  creator.  He  had 
entered  into  his  dominion  over  nature. 

For  man  is  the  only  member  of  the  animal 
kingdom  that  can  imagine  and  invent  something 
that  has  never  previously  existed,  and  that  can 
so  control  the  resources  of  nature  as  to  give  his 
dream  a  form.  He  is,  or  can  be,  a  creator;  with 
imagination,  will,  power;  not  indeed  to  create  a 
world;  but  to  recreate  this  one,  make  it  over  and 
shape  it  to  conform  to  his  necessities  and 
desires  and  his  ideals.  He,  too,  can  be  an 
artist. 


Here  it  is  that  we  reach  the  true  significance 
of  the  ideas  involved  in  the  words  "art''  and 
"artist."  It  is  no  new  one  made  by  stretching 
the  original  use;  it  is  the  old  usage,  for  the 
word  art  is  derived  from  a  Greek  root,  "ar," 
which  has  the  significance  of  fitting  and  joining. 
It  appears  in  a  verb  form,  "aro";  of  which, 
however,  no  present  tense  is  found  in  literature, 
since  the  word  was  used  by  epic  poets  to  describe 
the  achievements  of  heroes  of  the  past.  Neither 
let  us  forget  the  Greek  significance  of  the  word 
"poet."  It  is  the  noun  form  of  the  verb  poieoy 
which'  means  to  "make";  and  specifically  in 
the  old  English  usage  of  the  word:  "And  God 
said,  Let  us  make  man  in  our  image."    The  poet 


WORLD'S  NEED  OF  ART  67 

was  the  creator;  specifically,  the  maker  of  a  work 
of  Art.  In  their  Latinized  form  the  two  words 
come  together  in  "Ars  Poetica/'  the  title  of 
Horace's  treatise  on  the  technique  of  the  Art  of 
Poetry. 

Nor  are  there  lacking  plenty  of  examples  in 
modern  usage  of  this  use  of  the  word  Art,  in  the 
sense  of  organized  skill,  needing  some  qualifying 
word  to  explain  the  purpose.  Thus  we  have 
the  arts  of  peace  and  war;  the  art  of  conversa- 
tion; musical  art,  pictorial  and  plastic  art;  the 
art  of  the  housewife;  the  art  of  self-defense; 
"the  gentle  art  of  making  enemies,"  and  so  on 
and  so  on.  Mr.  Taylor's  achievements  in  Scien- 
tific-Artistic Management  have  made  it  possible 
and  proper  to  speak  of  the  art  of  bricklaying. 
In  time,  when  Scientific-Artistic  Organization 
has  been  applied  to  municipal  affairs,  we  shall 
be  able  to  speak  of  the  art  of  city  govern- 
ment. Then  the  term  "municipal  art"  will 
cover  more  than  the  external  character  of  build- 
ings and  bridges,  lamp-posts  and  such  like,  and 
the  selection  and  placing  of  statues  and  mural 
painting.  It  will  involve  the  application  of 
Science  and  Art  to  the  whole  mechanism  of  the 
city's  body,  life  and  spirit. 

It  appears  then,  that  the  word  Art,  besides 
its  specific  meaning  in  connection  with  the  fine 
arts,  is  used  generally  today  in  the  same  sense 
that  it  had  originally.     It  implies  the  application 


68  ART  FOR  LIFE'S  SAKE 

of  systematized  and  organized  knowledge,  in 
order  to  secure  efficiency. 

When  we  turn  to  the  words  artist  and  artistic, 
we  note  that  their  origin  is  much  later  than  that 
of  Art.  The  words  come  to  us,  not  from  Greek 
or  Latin  source,  but  from  the  Italians  of  the 
Renaissance.  At  that  period  the  word  Art  had 
the  general  significance  we  have  just  noted  and 
was  used  with  a  qualifying  word.  To  distinguish 
the  alliance  between  the  arts  of  architecture, 
sculpture  and  painting  which  was  so  glorious 
an  expression  of  the  Renaissance,  the  three  were 
grouped  together  as  "le  Belle  Arte.''  The 
French  still  call  them  ''Les  Beaux  Arts."  Our 
Anglicized  phrase  "the  Fine  Arts"  is  less  happy; 
since  "fine"  conveys  no  definite  impression; 
whereas  "belle"  and  "beaux"  explain  the  dis- 
tinction of  these  arts.  They  are  the  Beautiful 
Arts;  the  arts  preeminently  concerned  with  ex- 
ternal beauty  of  form  and  color.  It  was  to 
the  exponents  of  these  arts  that  the  Italians  gave 
the  generic  name  of  artists;  while  to  the  beautiful 
but  minor  arts  of  decorative  design  they  appHed 
the  term  artistic. 

If  we  have  read  the  autobiography  of  Ben- 
venuto  Cellini  —  that  extraordinary  peep  behind 
the  scenes  of  the  Renaissance  —  we  remember 
his  ambition  to  qualify  as  an  artist.  He  was  not 
satisfied  with  the  fame  won  by  his  beautiful 
creations  in  gold  and  silver:    goblets,  caskets, 


WORLD^S  NEED  OF  ART  69 

salt-cellars  and  so  forth;  in  order  to  secure  his 
recognition  as  an  "artist"  he  made  a  statue  of 
Perseus. 

The  arbitrary '  discrimination  between  artist 
and  artistic  craftsman,  under  which  Cellini 
chafed,  still  exists  today  and  with  much  less 
reason.  For  the  modern  workers  in  the  Fine 
Arts  are  neither  collectively  nor  individually  so 
great  as  their  predecessors  of  the  Renaissance; 
and  many  modern  craftsmen  are  creating  works 
of  Art  at  least  as  beautiful  as  the  works  of  Art 
of  the  so-called  "artists."  It  is,  in  fact,  time 
that  wt  freed  ourselves  from  the  cant  of  such 
discriminations.  Other  people  are  estimated  ac- 
cording to  their  efficiency.  Let  us  apply  the 
same  test  to  artists  and  recognize  that  an  indif- 
ferent artist  is  nothing  like  as  estimable,  from 
the  point  of  view  of  his  output,  as,  for  example, 
an  efficient  plumber. 

By  the  time  we  have  gained  the  habit  of  sub- 
mitting an  artist  to  the  test  of  efficiency,  which 
in  the  case  of  his  art  is  his  ability  to  create 
Beauty,  we  shall  be  prepared  to  follow  the  trend  of 
this  book  and  accept  a  new  but  quite  reasonable 
conception  of  the  artist.  We  shall  embrace  in 
the  term  any  worker  in  any  art  whatsoever, 
whose  motive  is  to  increase  the  Beauty  of  Life 
and  Living  and  whose  efficiency  in  his  particular 
art  is  such  that  he  "delivers  the  goods." 


CHAPTER  IX 
NATURE— THE  MATERIAL  OF  ART 

TO  every  worker  in  the  world,  whether 
artist  or  not,  there  is  only  one  material: 
nature;  nature,  animate  and  inanimate. 
We  say  that  a  painter  is  inspired  by  nature;  we 
are  in  the  habit  of   saying  that   such  a  one  as 
Tubal  Cain  utilizes  the  resources  of  nature.     If 
the  distinction  amounts  to  anything  it  is  simply 
one  of  motive.     We  assume  that  the  painter's 
motive  is  Beauty,  while  the  other's  is  Utility; 
a  distinction,  however,  which  disappSS^rs,  as  we 
shall  see,  if  the  latter  is  actuated  also  by  a  motive 
of  beauty  which  he  has  learned  from   nature. 
Meanwhile,   the  painter  takes   some    phase    of 
nature  as  the  material  or  subject  of  his  picture 
and  organizes  it  into  an  expression   of  beauty; 
the   worker   in   metal   takes    some    product    of 
nature  and  organizes  it   into    something   more 
efficient  for  the  service  of  man.      And,  as  this 
book  set  out   to   suggest,   he  will   increase  its 
efficiency  for  highest  service,  if  he   also   makes 
it  contribute  to  the  Beauty  of  Life  and  Living. 
The  artist  of  modern  times  who  led  the  way 
in    helping  the  world  to  ^understand  the   true 
relation  of  Art  to  Life,  was  Jean  Francois  Millet. 


THE  MATERIAL  OF  ART  71 

He  was  among  the  first  of  the  moderns,  certainly 
the  first  of  modern  painters  to  recognize  the  dig- 
nity of  labor.  This  attitude  of  his  was  the  result 
of  instinct  and  experience.  His  boyhood  and 
young  manhood  had  been  spent  on  his  father's 
little  farm  at  Gruchy,  in  Normandy,  where  he 
worked  as  a  laborer.  When  he  became  a  painter 
he  struggled  for  a  time  to  see  and  feel  nature 
through  the  eyes  and  feelings  of  the  painters  who 
were  satisfying  the  existing  taste  of  the  public. 
But,  as  he  said,  "the  cry  of  the  soil"  was  ever  in 
his  heart;  and  at  length  he  dared  to  hearken  to 
it;  to  be  himself;  to  run  counter  to  popular  taste 
and  become  the  leader  of  a  new  taste,  which  has 
helped '  to  change  the  world's  attitude  toward 
Life.  He  took  as  his  material  that  department 
of  nature  which  he  knew  and  in  which  his  deepest 
feeling  was  involvedri  the  life  of  the  laborer. 
And,  as  he  felt  it,  labor  was  not  a  curse,  but  a 
necessary  and  beautiful  part  of  the  divinely 
ordered  scheme  of  the  imiverse.  To  his  eyes  and 
feeling  the  peasants  of  Barbizon,  working  in  the 
fields,  tending  their  herds  and  flocks  and  doing 
their  chores  about  the  house  and  farm,  were 
links  in  the  diurnal  routine  of  labor,  which  holds 
the  stars  in  their  courses,  makes  the  earth  yield 
her  increase  in  due  season  and  occupies  the 
activity  of  an  endless  succession  of  existences 
down  to  the  remotest  protoplasm.  A  curse? 
Nay,  a  transcendent  miracle,  an  idea  immeas- 


72  ART  FOR  LIFE'S  SAKE 

urably  wonderful  and  beautiful,  this  continuity 
of  the  universe  through  labor. 

And  Millet  discovered  a  form  in  which  he  could 
embody  this  idea,  so  as  to  impart  its  significance 
to  the  imagination  of  other  men.  He  took  his 
product  of  nature,  the  rude  peasant  in  his  un- 
couth shape,  and  organized  his  material  according 
to  the  same  canons  that  constitute  the  beauty 
of  the  finest  Greek  art.  That  is  to  say,  while 
the  action  in  which  the  figures  are  engaged  con- 
tinues to  be  natural,  it  has  taken  on  a  superior 
Fitness  for  the  task  and  is  invested  with  the  ele- 
ments of  Unity,  Balance,  Harmony  and  Rhythm. 
What  the  Athenian  sculptor  did  when  he  sought 
his  material  among  the  handsome  youths- in  the 
athletic  games  and  produced  his  statue  of  the 
Disc  Thrower,  Millet  did  with  the  unlovely 
material  (as  it  seemed  to  common  eyes)  of  the 
Barbizon  peasant. 

Millet,  in  fact But  since  the  continua- 
tion of  the  sentence  was  written  I  have  read  an 
article  on  "Habits  that  Help"  by  Walter  D. 
Scott,  Professor  of  Psychology  at  Northwestern 
University.  It  appeared  in  "Everybody's  Maga- 
zine," September,  191 1.  I  quote  the  opening  para- 
graph, and  put  it  alongside  the  interrupted 
paragraph  about  Millet.  I  must  ask  the  reader 
to  accept  my  word  on  two  points:  firstly,  that 
my  paragraph  represents  very  closely  what  every 
student  of  Millet's  work,  whether  painter  or  lay- 


THE  MATERIAL  OF  ART 


73 


man,  will  indorse;  secondly,  that  I  have  not 
altered  it  in  any  way  to  increase  its  analogy  to 
the  quotation  from  Professor  Scott. 


Qtwtations  from 

Everybody's 

After  spending  four  years  in 
an  Eastern  College,  a  young 
graduate  was  put  in  charge  of  a 
group  of  day  laborers.  He  as- 
sumed toward  them  the  attitude 
of  the  athletic  director  and  coach 
combined.  He  set  out  to  de- 
velop a  winning  team,  one  that 
could  handle  more  cubic  yards 
of  dirt  in  a  day  than  any  other 
group  on  the  job. 

He  had  no  guidebook  and  no 
oflScial  records  to  direct  him. 
He  did  not  know  what  the  best 
"form"  was  for  shoveling  dirt, 
and  he  did  not  know  how  much 
a  good  man  could  accompUsh 
in  an  hour.  With  stop  watch 
and  notebook  in  hand,  he  began 
to  observe  the  movements  of 
what  seemed  to  be  the  best 
worker  in  the  group.  He  counted 
the  different  movements  made 
in  handling  a  shovelful  of  dirt, 
and  the  exact  time  required  for 
each  of  the  movements.  He 
found  that  the  best  man  was 
making  fewer  movements  and 
faster  movements  than  his  com- 
panions. But  he  also  discov- 
ered that  even  his  best  workman 
was  making  some  movements 
which  were  unnecessary  and 
that  he  was  making  some  move- 


The  Continimtion  of 
my  own  Chapter 

Millet,  in  fact,  studied  the 
natural  actions  of  the  peasants, 
until  he  had  discovered  the  prin- 
ciples underl3dng  the  movement 
of  the  body  and  limbs,  by  which 
the  action  might  be  made  as 
easy  and  at  the  same  time  as 
efficient  as  possible.  All  else  he 
rejected  as  superfluity.  Thus 
his  picture  of  The  Sower  does 
not  represent  any  particular 
man  sowing.  Probably  no  man 
in  performing  his  act  of  sowing 
ever  reproduced  the  precise  ac- 
tion of  this  one.  But  Millet  by 
observation  of  many  sowers  and 
from  his  own  knowledge  and 
feeling  of  what  the  action  of 
sowing  involved,  discarded  all 
the  unessential  movements  and 
coordinated  the  essentials  into  an 
organized  unit,  resulting  in  the 
highest  possible  efficiency  in  the 
act  of  sowing.  He  substituted 
for  the  Unes  and  movements  of 
mere  elegance  and  grace,  such  as 
an  Academic  painter  trying  to 
imitate  the  Greeks  would  use, 
lines  and  movements  of  eflSciency. 
He  emulated  the  Greeks  by  study- 
ing nature  until  he  had  divined 
the  secrets  of  her  operations  and 
could  evolve  from  them  her  own 
harmonies   and   rhythms.    The 


74 


ART  FOR  LIFE'S  SAKE 


ments  too  slowly  and  thus  losing 
the  advantage  of  the  momentum 
that  a  higher  speed  would  have 
produced  and  which  would  have 
enabled  him  to  accomphsh  the 
task  with  less  effort. 

The  young  collegian  then  set 
about  to  standardize  the  neces- 
sary movements  and  the  most 
economical  speed  for  each  move- 
ment required  in  the  work  of 
his  group.  He  instructed  his 
best  man  in  the  improved 
method  of  working  and  offered 
him  a  handsome  bonus  if  he 
would  follow  the  specifications 
and  accomplish  the  task  in  the 
estimated  time.  The  man, 
eager  to  earn  the  increase,  fol- 
lowed the  directions  closely,  and 
in  a  few  weeks  was  enabled  to 
accomphsh  more  than  twice  the 
work  of  the  average  workman. 
The  improved  habit  of  working 
was  then  taught  to  the  other 
workmen  and  the  result  was  a 
winning  team. 


principles  he  employed  were 
those  of  simplification  and  co- 
ordination; the  latter,  organized 
to  secure  Fitness,  Unity,  Har- 
mony, Balance  and  Rhythm, 
with  a  view  to  efficiency,  or,  as 
he  would  have  said,  expression. 


CHAPTER  X 
THE  MOTIVE  OF  THE  ARTIST 

IT  appears  from  the  foregoing  parallel  that 
Millet  and  the  young  graduate,  setting  out 
with  somewhat  different  motives,  worked  for 
the  same  end  of  efficiency  or  expression  and 
obtained  it  by  similar  means.  In  each  case,  the 
natural  functions,  through  being  organized  by 
Art,  were  heightened  to  superior  efficiency. 

To  clinch  the  point,  let  us  note  for  a  moment 
how  Millet  differed  from  the  Academic  or  so- 
called  Classical  painter  or  sculptor.  The  latter, 
recognizing  the  beauty  and  dignity  of  Greek 
Art  as  the  result  of  Unity,  Balance,  Harmony 
and  Rhythm,  sets  out  to  reproduce  these  quali- 
ties in  his  statue  or  picture.  But  he  overlooks 
the  first  and  most  important  element  of  beauty, 
namely.  Fitness.  He  does  not  make  it  the  first 
aim  of  his  composition  that  the  position  of  the 
body  and  Hmbs  of  his  figures  shall  be  suitable 
to  the  action  in  which  they  are  supposed  to  be 
engaged.  He  is  thinking  only  of  distributing 
and  combining  the  lines  and  masses  of  his  com- 
position in  such  a  way  as  to  produce  an  abstract 
balance  and  harmony.     He  is  not  interested  in 


76  ART  FOR  LIFE'S  SAKE 

organizing  the  natural  functions  of  his  figures. 
He  is  interested  only  in  what  he  would  call  the 
artistic  aspect  of  the  matter.  Fitness  he  leaves 
to  those  who  are  concerned  with  practical  matters. 
He,  forsooth,  as  he  will  tell  you,  is  occupied  with 
the  "ideal."  His  ideal,  in  fact,  is  to  keep  Art 
separate  from  Nature  and  Life. 

Meanwhile,  until  recently,  the  "ideal/'  equally 
narrow  and  false,  of  the  practical  man,  has  been 
to  keep  Nature  separated  from  Art. 

Today  we  have  reached  a  point  when  Millet 
among  other  artists  has  taught  us  that  the  ideal 
should  be  based  upon  the  practical,  and  the  lay- 
man is  learning  how  the  practical  may  be  im- 
proved in  eflSciency  by  working  toward  an  ideal. 


I  am  prepared  for  a  retort  which  in  the  present 
condition  of  thinking  is  sure  to  be  made.  The 
artist,  it  will  be  said,  is  working  for  the  expression 
of  Beauty;  the  layman  for  the  accomplishment 
of  practical  results.  Hence,  although  both  may 
employ  the  principles  of  Fitness,  Unity,  Harmony, 
Balance  and  Rhythm,  it  is  straining  analogies  to 
say  that  the  layman  can  be  an  artist.    Let  us  see. 

The  whole  matter  turns  on  what  we  under- 
stand by  Beauty  and  by  practical  results.  Before 
committing  ourselves  to  anything  approaching 
a  definition,  let  us  review  the  proceedings  of  the 
young  graduate.    He  was  keen  and   eager   to 


MOTIVE  OF  THE  ARTIST  77 

"make  good''  in  his  first  job.  Having  individ- 
uality, he  began  to  size  up  the  conventions  of  his 
job  alongside  of  his  own  experience;  possessed 
also  of  imagination,  he  began  to  have  a  vision  of 
what  might  be  done,  if  under  the  impulse  of  his 
idea  he  could  utilize  his  experience.  When 
results  ensued,  it  is  safe  to  say  he  was  filled  with 
joy  and  enthusiasm.  Can  we  doubt  that  some 
of  this  joy  and  enthusiasm  was  communicated 
to  his  gang  of  laborers?  As  the  character  of 
their  labor  was  improved,  it  is  impossible  not  to 
believe  that  to  some  extent  the  character  of  the 
laborers  was  bettered.  They  must  have  been 
the  happier  and  consequently  the  better  for  their 
work.  They  were  no  longer  treated  as  mere 
drudges;  they  had  been  encouraged  to  feel  them- 
selves more  capable  and  efl5cient,  to  have  a  senti- 
ment of  pride  in  their  achievements  and  in 
themselves.  The  dignity  of  their  labor  had 
been  heightened  and  by  so  much  also  the  value 
of  their  lives  both  to  themselves  and  to  the 
world. 

Whether  the  arousing  of  this  expression  of 
sentiment  and  character  in  his  men  formed  an 
element  in  the  young  man's  motive  when  he 
started  out  to  secure  increased  efficiency,  is  purely 
a  matter  of  conjecture.  Perhaps,  the  odds  are 
that  it  did  not.  On  the  other  hand,  it  seems  safe 
to  believe  that,  having  realized  the  happiness 
which  ensued  all  round   in   his   relations  with 


78  ART  FOR  LIFE'S  SAKE 

these  men,  he  will  include  it  as  an  element  in 
his  motive  when  dealing  subsequently  with 
others.  While  concentrating  upon  efficiency,  he 
will  view  it  in  relation  to  the  larger  circum- 
ference also,  as  an  expression  of  himian  character 
and  sentiment;  as  a  source,  not  only  of  increased 
productiveness,  but  also  of  greater  good  for  the 
worker;  as  a  step  in  the  direction  of  superior 
happiness  and  of  advancing  the  Beauty  of  Life 
and  Living.  If  this  becomes  his  motive,  his 
ideal,  he  is  working  in  the  spirit  of  the  artist. 
Add  to  this,  that  he  applies  to  his  work  the 
principles  which  characterize  a  work  of  Art. 
Wherein  then,  does  he  differ  from  the  Artist? 
Only  in  the  matter  of  degree.  He  cannot  attain 
to  the  latter's  possibiHty  of  perfection. 

On  the  other  hand,  if  he  work  solely  to  secure 
efficiency,  solely  to  make  more  dirt  fly,  with  no 
conscious  ideal  of  improving  the  conditions  of 
labor,  of  heightening  the  happiness  of  the  worker 
and  generally  promoting  the  Beauty  of  Life  and 
Living,  then  he  falls  short  of  being  an  artist.  He 
is  only  an  efficient  human  machine,  correspond- 
ing, shall  we  say,  to  a  pianola,  which  increases 
the  happiness  of  the  world,  but  itself  remains 
merely  an  ingenious  piece  of  mechanism. 
*         ^         -jf         *         *         *         * 

This  train  of  thought  has  surely  had  some 
bearing  on  the  xmderstanding  of  what  is  beauty 
and  what  are  practical  results.     As  regards  the 


MOTIVE  OF  THE  ARTIST  79 

latter,  the  issue  comes  down  to  this:  Does  the 
scientific  organizer  possess  merely  eyesight  or 
has  he  also  vision?  Does  he  look  merely  at  the 
job  in  front  of  his  nose :  the  laying  of  more  bricks 
in  a  given  time  or  the  making  of  more  dirt  fly? 
Or  has  he  the  vision  of  imagination  which  pictures 
ahead  the  results,  no  less  practical,  that  will 
succeed  in  a  logical  train  from  the  first  practical 
result?  After  all  it  does  not  need  such  a  mighty 
power  of  vision.  A  very  little  observation  of 
facts  will  help  one. 

I  remember  the  manager  of  a  local  bank  near 
New  York  telling  me  that  the  most  satisfactory 
depositors  were  Italian  laborers,  of  whom  a  great 
number  were  employed  in  the  district  upon  water- 
works, railways  and  highways.  Their  deposits 
were  regular  and  represented  assets  on  which 
the  bank  could  reckon.  Meanwhile,  when  winter 
came,  the  bank  with  equal  certainty  had  to 
reckon  upon  large  withdrawals.  A  considerable 
number  of  the  depositors  cashed  out  their  savings 
and  returned  to  Italy  to  spend  them.  Why  not? 
They  had  no  sentiment  for  America.  They  were 
treated  as  human  tools;  to  be  used  to  the  last 
capacity  and  then  thrown  away,  like  a  worn-out 
spade.  They  acquiesced  in  the  brutal  contract 
because  it  suppHed  them  with  funds  to  realize 
such  ideals  as  they  had  in  another  country. 

But  suppose  that  our  young  graduate  arouses 
in  these  ItaUans  laborers  a  pride  in  their  work 


8o  ART  FOR  LIFE'S  SAKE 

and  in  themselves?  It  is  only  a  question  of 
time  when  the  mean  conditions  in  which  they 
are  at  present  willing  to  live  will  prove  irksome; 
and  as  the  desire  of  improved  living  grows,  a 
desire  for  permanency  of  conditions  will  follow, 
and  they  will  more  and  more  closely  identify 
themselves  with  American  life.  Their  ideals 
will  root  into  its  soil  and  by  degrees  take  on 
finer  growth.  They  will  become  centered  in  the 
desire  of  having  children  and  of  bringing  them 
up  to  better  advantages  than  their  fathers 
possessed.  Surely  these  are  practical  results; 
firstly,  the  purely  material  result  of  keeping 
money  in  the  country  and  of  stimulating  a 
higher  productive  and  purchasing  standard;  sec- 
ondly, the  spiritual  results  of  an  improved 
standard  of  citizenship.  And  this  example  is 
fairly  typical. 

It  appears  then  that  the  higher  practical  results 
involve  not  merely  the  efiiciency  of  labor,  but 
also  the  Betterment  of  the  Worker  and  the  en- 
hancement of  the  Beauty  of  Life  and  Living.  We 
are  justified,  therefore,  in  questioning  the  scien- 
tific organizer  as  to  his  motive.  Is  it  solely 
increased  productivity,  or  is  the  latter  to  be  re- 
garded as  a  means  toward  Life,  Liberty  and  the 
Pursuit  of  Happiness?  Is  the  motive  a  personal 
and  selfish  one  or  directed  toward  the  betterment 
of  the  race?  It  will  advantage  the  race  but  little, 
if  at  all,  that  a  woman  be  trained  to  produce 


MOTIVE  OF  THE  ARTIST  8i 

two  shirtwaists  in  the  time  in  which  she  now 
produces  one,  unless,  in  the  first  place,  her  work 
is  thereby  rendered  less  exhausting,  and  secondly, 
some  of  the  time  thus  saved,  is  given  back  to 
her  for  Life  and  Living. 

Yet  the  tendency  already  is  to  abuse  the 
blessing  of  Scientific-Artistic  Organization  by 
narrowing  its  motive  to  producing  two  shirt- 
waists for  one,  on  some  fancied  analogy  between 
this  and  making  two  blades  of  wheat  grow  where 
one  grew  before.  But  even  in  the  latter  case, 
overproduction  or  continuous  sameness  of  pro- 
duction will  exhaust  the  ground.  Meanwhile, 
the  earth  is  fulfilling  itself  in  yielding  increase. 
Grant,  therefore,  to  humanity  the  same  privilege 
of  fulfilling  itself;  which  it  must  do,  not  only 
by  contributing  to  the  necessary  production  of 
the  world  but  also  by  satisfying  those  Desires  of 
Life  and  Living  which  are  instinctive  in  the  hiunan 
soul. 

We  have  now  reached  a  point  where  we  can 
agree  upon  an  understanding  of  beauty. 


CHAPTER  XI 
BEAUTY 

WE  noted  in  the  previous  chapter  the 
correspondence  which  may  exist  be- 
tween the  methods  of  the  layman 
and  those  of  the  artist;  which,  in  fact,  must 
exist  if  the  layman  organizes  his  work  according 
to  the  methods  of  Scientific- Artistic  Organization. 
For,  to  repeat,  the  latter  is  nothing  more  or  less 
than  the  application  to  crudely  natural  methods 
of  the  same  principles  which  an  artist  employs 
to  produce  his  work  of  Art.  They  are  the  prin- 
ciples involved  in  Selection  and  Organization; 
the  latter,  with  a  view  to  Fitness,  Unity,  Balance, 
Harmony  and  Rhythm. 

Thus  far  the  correspondence  is  inevitable  and 
complete.  It  is  only  when  we  pass  from  the 
consideration  of  methods  to  that  of  motive  that 
the  divergence  may  appear.  For  it  has  been 
taken  for  granted  that  ^  the  business  man  is  work- 
ing for  business  while  the  artist  works  for  beauty. 
This  indeed  has  been  the  difiference,  accepted 
hitherto,  as  if  it  were  necessary  and  proper. 
"Business  is  business"  has  been  the  catch-phrase, 
adopted  as  an  axiom  of  the  market  place,  the 
office  and  the  street. 


BEAUTY  8s 

This  means  in  plain  English  that  the  business 
man  conducts  his  business  solely  for  the  sake  of 
business.  He  considers  business  as  itself  the  End 
of  Life;  not  as  a  necessary  means  to  the  supreme 
end,  the  ideal  of  Better  and  Happier  Living.  In 
sole  pursuit  of  his  ideal,  business  for  the  sake  of 
business,  he  rotates  in  a  restricted  circle,  like  a 
dog  trying  to  catch  up  with  his  tail.  Hustling 
round  in  this  narrow  and,  to  be  frank,  vicious 
circle,  men  lose  their  larger  sense  of  values. 
Honest  outside  of  it,  they  are  not  ashamed  to  be 
within  it  dishonest.  Though  naturally,  it  may 
be,  not  devoid  of  kindness,  they  become  in  their 
specific  circle,  from  which  the  larger  issues  of 
Life  and  Living  are  excluded,  selfish  and  remorse- 
less. They  harden  their  conscience  by  asserting 
that  business  is  business.  They  make  of  it  a 
warfare  and  fortify  their  conscience  with  the 
primitive  patter-words  —  "all's  fair  in  love  or 
war."  What  boots  it  that  to  the  decent  sense 
of  modern  times  all  is  not  fair  in  love  or  war; 
that  an  international  conscience  insists  upon 
curbing  the  brutal  excesses  of  warfare  and  that 
individual  consciences  of  men  and  women  repu- 
diate the  brute  and  the  deceiver  in  love?  Yet 
in  business,  too  usually,  men  still  animalize 
themselves,  by  adopting  the  old  savage  law  of 
the  jungle,  where  food  and  the  female  were  the 
prey  of  the  strongest,  the  swiftest  and  the  fiercest. 

What  will  they  say  of  a  new  watchword  — 


84  ART  FOR  LIFE'S  SAKE 

"Business  is  Beauty,"  meaning  that  the  motive 
of  business  may  be  and  should  be  the  Beauty  of 
Life  and  Living?  As  in  the  case  of  Christ's 
gospel,  of  which  this  new  message  is  but  a  belated 
fruitage,  the  latter  will  be  at  first  "unto  the  Jews 
a  stumbling-block  and  unto  the  Greeks  foolish- 
ness." To  those  who  "require  a  sign,"  that  is 
to  say  who  judge  everything  by  its  immediate 
monetary  return,  it  will  appear  as  a  hindrance 
to  their  greed,  and  to  those  who  "seek  after 
wisdom,"  the  wisdom  that  excels  in  overreaching 
others,  it  will  seem  but  folly. 

Yet  to  those  who  are  watching  the  trend  of 
progress  it  is  abundantly  manifest  that  the  best 
thought  and  effort  of  the  present  are  from  a  variety 
of  different  approaches  reaching  the  same  con- 
viction of  the  need  and  possibility  of  a  new 
ideal  of  life.  It  shall  embrace  the  Means  as  well 
as  the  End  of  Life;  government,  for  example, 
business,  commerce  and  industry.  It  believes  and 
is  resolved  that  both  the  means  and  the  end  shall 
be  organized  into  happier  conditions,  approxi- 
mating more  nearly  the  ideal  of  Beauty. 

It  will  help  the  realization  of  this  belief  and 
resolve,  if  all  the  thinkers  and  workers  in  this 
new  enterprise  get  together  onto  a  common 
platform.  Every  new  movement,  before  it  can 
capture  the  imagination  of  the  multitude  without 
which  it  cannot  swell  into  a  current  of  united 
effort,  needs  a  watchword.     Why  should  we  not 


BEAUTY  Ss 

join  in  accepting  as  our  watchword,  BEAUTY? 
Let  us  boldly  affirm  that  Beauty  ought  to  be, 
may  be  and  shall  be,  at  once  the  motive  of  Life 
and  Living  and  the  standard  by  which  Success 
and  Happiness  in  Life  shall  be  gauged.  But  as  a 
foundation  for .  our  creed  we  must  agree  upon 
our  understanding  of  what  the  idea  of  Beauty 
involves.  For  at  present  much  confusion  con- 
cerning it  exists.  The  so-called  "practical"  man 
is  afraid  of  beauty  or,  at  least,  distrustful  of  it; 
while  the  so-called  "idealist"  conceives  of  it  in 
a  too  restricted  sense. 

It  is,  in  fact,  the  habit  of  all  of  us  to  think  of 
Beauty  as  a  specialty,  as  a  quality  pertaining  to  a 
specialized  aspect  of  life.  Since  Beauty  is  the 
recognized  motive  of  the  artist,  we  have  learned 
to  think  of  it  in  relation  to  Art  rather  than  to 
Life. 

To  take  a  concrete  example  —  the  idea  involved 
in  "The  City  Beautiful."  It  represents  an  ideal, 
happily  phrased  by  architects,  painters  and  sculp- 
tors, who  would  make  our  cities  the  visible 
expression  of  the  pride  and  belief  and  hope  that 
we  have  in  the  material  and  spiritual  resources 
and  possibilities  of  our  democracy.  It  is  a  noble 
and  logical  ideal;  but  its  nobiHty  may  easily  be 
too  restricted,  its  logic  too  curtailed.  For  its 
significance,  in  the  imagination  of  many,  stops 
short  with  the  attainment  of  grandly  planned 
streets,  boulevards  and  parks,  stately  and  monu- 


S6  ART  FOR  LIFERS  SAKE 

mental  buildings,  and  all  those  evidences  of 
artistic  culture  such  as  characterized  the  cities 
of  the  old  world  in  their  periods  of  greatest  splen- 
dor. Meanwhile,  if  the  City  Beautiful  stops 
short  with  these  material  evidences  of  Beauty, 
it  may  be  "like  unto  whited  sepulchers,  which 
indeed  appear  beautiful  outwardly  but  within 
are  full  of  dead  men's  bones  and  of  all  unclean- 
ness.''  What  of  the  lives  of  the  masses?  What 
of  the  conditions  under  which  they  live  and  die, 
toil  and  take  their  pleasures?  It  is  out  of  beau- 
tiful lives,  living  in  healthful  and  elevating  sur- 
roundings, that  the  modern  city,  if  it  is  to  be  truly 
beautiful,  must  be  builded;  founded  upon  right- 
eousness, the  right  of  all  to  a  chance  of  fair  and 
wholesome  living,  both  spiritual  and  material. 

This,  you  observe,  is  not  to  discourage  the 
artists  who  would  occupy  their  talents  in  giving 
outward  and  visible  sign  and  expression  to  the 
ideals  of  our  civilization,  but  to  reinforce  their 
efforts  by  the  cooperation  of  every  man  and 
woman  and  child  who  in  any  way  whatsoever 
is  working  for  the  Betterment  of  Life  and  Living. 
It  is  to  preach  and  practice  Beauty  in  the  grandly 
comprehensive  understanding  of  what  is  involved 
in  the  idea  of  Beauty;  to  regard  it  as  the  whole 
embracing  motive  of  Life,  to  which  every  thinker 
and  doer  in  his  or  her  respective  way  may 
contribute  a  share  of  stimulus  and  realization. 


BEAUTY  87 

In  order  to  grasp  this  large  conception  of 
Beauty  let  us  begin  by  realizing  how  our  con- 
ception of  Beauty  has  been  limited  by  our 
habit  of  thinking  of  beauty  in  its  relation  to 
Art  rather  than  to  Life.  Following,  for  ex- 
ample, the  guide  of  the  painter  we  have  learned 
to  look  for  beauty  in  the  external  appearances 
of  objects  of  sight;  in  the  combinations  of  lines, 
forms  and  colors.  We  have  grown  accustomed 
to  the  painter's  dictum  that  such  and  such  a 
combination  of  these  elements  is  beautiful,  and 
are  disposed  to  accept  his  ruling  that  we  are 
" Philistines"  if  we  do  not  agree  with  him. 

Meanwhile,  painters,  like  doctors,  disagree. 
What  one  set  of  painters  eulogizes  another  con- 
demns. Even  among  artists  there  is  no  absolute 
canon  of  what  is  and  what  is  not  beautiful.  For 
instance,  there  is  authority  for  admiring  the 
work  of  Bouguereau  who,  divesting  a  young  girPs 
face  and  figure  of  the  accidents  and  irregular- 
ities of  line  and  form  and  color,  which  make  up 
her  individual  personality,  reduced  everything 
to  a  conventionalized  symmetry  that  represented 
to  this  particular  artist  his  ideal  of  beauty.  Or, 
on  the  other  hand,  we  shall  be  in  good  company 
if  we  admire  the  work  of  Rembrandt,  who  cher- 
ished the  accidents  and  irregularities  of  his  sub- 
jects as  being  significant  of  individual  character; 
who,  so  far  from  artificializing  the  externals, 
either  recorded  them  faithfully  or  merged  them 


88  ART  FOR  LIFERS  SAKE 

in  obscurities  in  order  that  the  eye  might  not 
dwell  upon  the  outside  of  his  subjects,  but  that 
the  imagination  might  be  drawn  in  to  penetrate 
the  mystery  of  the  subject's  soul. 

Here  are  two  ideals  of  beauty,  supported  by 
artistic  authority  yet  as  divergent  as  East  from 
West!  It  is  clear  that  neither  can  have  a 
monopoly  of  rightness.  Indeed,  if  we  push  the 
lesson  of  their  difference  far  enough  and  take 
into  account  the  innumerable  variety  of  stand- 
ards and  ideals  of  Beauty  held  by  artists  in  the 
several  fields  of  painting,  architecture,  sculpture, 
music,  drama  and  literature,  we  recognize  that 
there  is  no  absolute  right  and  wrong  in  the 
matter.  Yet  all  the  squabbles,  and  they  are 
legion,  which  crowd  the  pages  of  the  history  of 
Art  are  the  result  of  an  assertion  of  the  rightness 
of  this  or  that  standard  and  the  wrongness  of 
others. 

Meanwhile,  the  tendency  of  the  present  time 
is  running  counter  to  all  dogmas,  whether  of 
religion,  art  or  morals.  It  represents,  on  the 
one  hand,  a  consciousness  of  the  Oneness  of  Life, 
and,  on  the  other,  a  realization  of  the  multiplic- 
ity of  units  out  of  which  the  Oneness  is  composed. 
It  recognizes  the  infinite  variety  of  human 
nature,  and  at  the  samg.  ,tinle  the  perpetual 
changes  which  are  taking  place  in  the  life  of 
every  individual.  Science  has  taught  that  change 
or  movement  is  the  law  of  life;   that  life  is  the 


BEAUTY  89 

sum  of  all  our  yesterdays,  plus  or  minus  some- 
thing which  today,  nay  this  very  moment  of 
existence,  is  giving  or  taking  from  us;  and  that, 
as  we  change,  so  change  the  needs  and  desires 
of  our  nature. 

We  can  find  the  analogy  of  this  Oneness  of 
Life  and  multiplicity  and  variableness  of  the 
units  composing  it  in  the  artist's  attitude  toward 
Beauty.  On  the  one  hand,  all  artists  are  agreed 
in  drawing  their  inspiration  from  Nature,  while  on 
the  other,  their  standard  or  Ideal  of  Beauty 
varies  according  to  their  attitude  toward  Life. 
And  the  latter  is  determined  for  the  time  being 
by  the  needs  and  desires  of  their  own  individual 
natures.  It  is  quite  a  usual  thing  for  an  artist 
to  begin  with  one  ideal  of  Beauty  and  to  pass  to 
another.  Moreover,  the  work  of  every  consid- 
erable artist  shows  a  continual  growth.  On  the 
contrary,  where  an  artist's  motive  becomes  fixed, 
it  is  evidence  that  he  has  ceased  to  grow;  that 
he  no  longer  feels  the  stimulus  of  needs  and  de- 
sires which  demand  to  be  satisfied.  It  corre- 
sponds to  a  hardening  of  the  arteries  in  his 
physical  nature.  His  artistic  nature  is  stiffening 
into  conventions;  it  has  become  moribund  and  is 
developing  the  symptoms  of  death. 

Consider,  in  connection  with  the  above,  your 
own  experience.  If  the  circumstances  of  your 
bringing  up  have  caused  you  to  take  pleasure 
in  pictures,  you  know  that  many  which  pleased 


90  ART  FOR  LIFE'S  SAKE 

you  once,  do  so  no  longer;  that  you  enjoy  today 
pictures  which  at  one  time  it  would  have  seemed 
impossible  you  should  care  for.  Similarly,  one's 
preferences  in  literature,  music  and  the  drama, 
have  undergone  a  change.  With  some  things 
that  once  absorbed  our  interest  we  now  have 
little  patience;  while  other  things  continue  to 
delight  us  but  now  present  further  breadth  and 
depth  of  interest.  We  have  discovered  in  them 
a  satisfaction  of  our  fuller  needs  and  desires. 
This  common  experience  gives  a  clue  to  the  larger 
comprehension  of  Beauty  in  its  relation  to  Life. 
In  a  general  way  that,  which  for  the  time  being 
satisfies  some  craving  of  our  nature,  seems  to  us  to 
he  beautiful. 

*         ^         -x-         *         *         *         * 

Now  all  the  cravings  of  our  nature  have  their 
source  in  a  common  instinct :  the  Need  of  Life  and 
Desire  of  Living.  In  the  case  of  the  infant  the 
instinct  works  automatically;  but  very  early  in 
childhood  it  grows  to  be  more  or  less  a  conscious 
instinct.  Later  it  becomes  reinforced  by  knowl- 
edge and  experience,  and  in  time  is  capable  of 
being  influenced  by  intelligence.  We  recognize 
our  needs  and  desires  and  consciously  set  out  to 
satisfy  them.  We  do  so  in  one  of  three  ways. 
Either  we  follow  our  instinct  blindly,  yielding 
ourselves  without  reflection  to  the  call  of  our 
senses;  or,  profiting  by  our  experience,  we  temper 
our  needs  and  desires  by  reason.     In  those  cases 


BEAUTY  91 

where  we  have  no  direct  knowledge  or  conscious 
experience  to  guide  us,  we  rely  upon  the  habit 
of  acting  in  submission  to  reason  and  bring  into 
play  that  developed  form  of  instinct  —  intuition. 
But  whether  intuition  or  reason  guide  us  or 
instinct  lead  us  blindly,  it  is  our  Need  of  Life 
and  Desire  of  Living,  under  the  prompting  of  the 
senses,  that  demand  satisfaction.  We  are  but 
fulfilling,  more  or  less  consciously,  more  or  less 
intelligently,  the  craving  of  Life  for  Self-Realiza- 
tion. 

Beauty,    then,    is    that    which    stimulates    and 
enhances  our  Need  of  Life  and  Desire  of  Living. 


CHAPTER   XII 

BEAUTY   AS    AN   INEVITABLE 
EXPRESSION   OF   GROWTH 

IT  is  a  defect  of  our  civilization  and  conse- 
quently of  our  system  of  education,  that 
until  recently  we  have  encouraged  realiza- 
tion not  of  the  whole  self  but  of  part  of  it.  In  our 
preoccupation  with  the  Reasoning  Faculties  we 
have  all  but  ignored  the  Desire  of  Living  and  the 
Claims  and  Satisfaction  of  the  Senses.  "  They  are 
dangerous  guides  —  the  feelings."  So  we  have 
conspired  to  pretend  that  they  don't  exist.  We 
have  played  the  ostrich  in  regard  to  our  natural 
instincts.  It  is  the  result  partly  of  our  puritan 
heritage  and  partly  of  that  ideal  of  life  which 
confuses  success  with  money-making.  Our  fore- 
fathers in  their  zeal  for  a  religion  founded  upon 
reason  and  in  their  horror  of  anything  that 
savored  of  the  senses,  confounded  sensuous  with 
sensual  and,  frowning  upon  whatever  tended  to 
the  Joy  of  Living,  thrust  Beauty  out  of  their 
lives  and  set  the  mark  of  Cain  upon  its  forehead, 
that  all  might  be  warned  against  it  as  the  murderer 
of  the  soul.  Beauty,  in  consequence,  has  re- 
mained a  social  outcast.    And  later,  the  modern 


EXPRESSION  OF  GROWTH  93 

world,  making  business  its  religion  and  shaping 
its  morality  to  the  shrewd  and  callous  ethics  of 
the  market  place,  has  maihtained  the  ban  on 
Beauty,  regarding  it  as  a  snare  and  a  delusion:  a 
foolishness,  only  fit  for  women  and  weaklings. 

Meanwhile,  humanity  not  being  able  to  crush 
out  its  natural  instincts,  being,  notwithstanding 
its  effort  at  self-mutilation,  a  creature  of  senses 
as  well  as  intellect,  has  satisfied  as  it  could  and 
dared  its  need  of  life  and  desire  of  living.  But 
since  Beauty  was  banished  from  the  high  places 
of  life  and  denied  the  reverence  and  worship  due 
to  it,  men  and  women  have  had  to  seek  their 
satisfaction  along  lower  planes:  in  excessive 
eating  and  drinking,  in  frivolous  and  vacuous 
amusements,  or  in  the  dark  places  where  the 
miasma  glimmers  with  phantom-shapes  that 
beckon  to  the  Desire  of  Life  and  lead  to  Spiritual 
and  Physical  Death.  Knowing  this,  we  have 
pretended  not  to  know  it  and  have  made  of  much 
of  our  civilization  a  huge  hypocrisy. 

******* 

Meanwhile,  a  change  in  our  attitude  toward 
Life  is  manifesting  itself  everywhere.  A  new 
nation  is  in  the  melting  pot  and  Puritanism  is 
being  fused  with  other  elements:  the  spiritual 
and  emotional  ardor  of  the  Celt,  the  appetite  for 
life  of  the  Scandinavian,  the  Latin  love  of  con- 
crete beauty  and  the  idealism  of  the  Slav.  In 
consequence  the  new  nationalism  is  being  infused 


94  ART  FOR  LIFE'S  SAKE 

vjith  a  still  nobler  conception  of  what  is  involved 
in  the  American  ideal  of  Life,  Liberty  and  Pursuit 
of  Happiness.  There  is  an  awakening  conscious- 
ness of  the  Desirability  and  Need  of  Beauty. 

It  is  operating  in  two  directions:  affecting 
already  our  attitude  toward  Art,  and  beginning 
also  to  be  in  a  general  sense  our  ideal  in  relation 
to  Life. 

^  ¥r  Mr  *  ^  ^  ^ 

Our  growth  in  the  Desire  of  Beauty,  as  repre- 
sented in  the  outward  and  visible  forms  of  Art, 
may  be  dated  with  sufficient  accuracy  from  the 
Chicago  World's  Fair  of  1893.  It  is  true  that 
the  artists,  more  particularly  the  architects,  had 
given  previous  stimulus  to  the  Desire  of  Beauty. 
But,  until  then,  these  influences  had  been  felt 
only  here  and  there  throughout  the  country  and 
in  a  way  to  affect  the  imagination  only  of  the 
few.  Chicago,  however,  represented  an  organ- 
ized effort  on  so  vast  a  scale  that  it  attracted 
the  notice  of  millions,  who  carried  back  the  fame 
of  it  to  the  uttermost  corners  of  the  Union. 
How  was  it  achieved  and  for  what  did  it  stand? 
It  stood  for  the  Wholeness  of  Life;  was  the  product 
of  an  enlightened  Cooperation.  It  assembled  into 
one  great  object  lesson  the  manifold  varieties  of 
man's  energy  and  creativeness;  the  triumphs  of 
the  inventor  and  the  scientist,  the  educator,  the 
philanthropist,  the  salesman,  the  artist,  the 
handicraftsman  and  the  organizers  of  commerce 


EXPRESSION  OF  GROWTH  95 

and  industry.  It  showed  the  work  of  all  as 
related  achievements  in  man's  spiritual  and 
material  uplift.  It  showed  too  that  the  bond 
which  united  all  these  numberless  manifestations 
of  man's  dominion  over  nature  in  response  to  the 
aspirations  of  his  ideals  was  the  bond  of  Beauty. 

For  the  conditions  under  which  the  exhibits 
were  displayed  were  planned  and  designed  as  an 
outward  and  visible  sign  of  the  inward  and 
spiritual  grace  of  Beauty.  On  every  hand  stood 
temples  or  palaces,  which  you  will,  dedicated  to 
the  arts,  sciences,  and  industries;  stately  edifices, 
enriched  with  the  work  of  the  sculptor  and  the 
painter.  Every  building,  down  to  the  smallest 
and  those  intended  for  the  humblest  utilities, 
contributed  something  to  the  Beauty  of  the  Whole. 
All  were  arranged  upon  a  cunningly  organized 
plan,  which  opened  up  in  every  direction  mag- 
nificent vistas,  interspersed  with  lawns  and  foli- 
age, lakes,  fountains,  statuary  and  other  devices 
of  the  landscape  artist.  Out  of  the  dirt  of  the 
flat  prairie  sprang  up,  by  the  magic  of  man's  Will 
under  the  impulse  of  his  Desire  for  Beauty,  that 
miracle  of  ''The  White  City."  I  have  seen 
many  an  exposition,  but  nowhere  one  so  beauti- 
ful or  so  significant  of  the  part  that  Beauty  can 
and  should  play  in  giving  expression  to  man's 
Need  of  Life  and  Desire  of  Living. 

And,  once  more,  how  was  this  miracle  achieved? 
By  the  Cooperation  of  Business  Men  and  Artists; 


96  ART  FOR  LIFE'S  SAKE 

by  the  wedding  together  of  the  Practical  and  the 
Ideal. 

That  was  nearly  twenty  years  ago  and  since 
then  a  new  generation  has  grown  up,  to  whom 
the  fame  of  the  White  City  is  but  a  hearsay. 
Meanwhile,  of  those  who  saw  it,  not  all  have 
profited  by  its  lesson.  I  could  mention  the  name 
of  a  man,  prominent  in  the  erection  of  that  City 
Beautiful,  who  has  disfigured  one  of  the  finest 
sites  in  his  own  city  of  Chicago  with  a  huge 
structure  of  unpardonable  ugliness.  Moreover, 
is  such  general  improvement  as  Chicago  itself 
can  show  at  all  commensurate  with  the  example 
of  Beauty  which  she  erected  under  that  temporary 
stimulus  of  enthusiasm? 

But  Chicago  is  not  alone  in  this  respect.  Most 
American  cities  are  ugly,  just  as  most  modem 
centers  of  industry  and  commerce  in  the  Old 
World  are  ugly.  Everywhere,  indeed,  material 
progress  is  scarred  with  the  blight  of  Ugliness; 
the  latter  a  visible  sign  of  Ugliness  of  spirit. 

Why  is  this?  In  a  large  measure,  because  the 
ideal  and  the  desire  of  making  Beauty  have  been 
ousted  by  the  ideal  and  the  desire  of  making 
Money.  This  has  been  a  temporary  dire  result 
of  the  increase  of  machinery  which,  on  the  one 
hand,  has  supplanted  the  individual  worker 
and,  on  the  other,  has  made  possible  increased 
production  and  profit  for  the  capitalist. 

Machinery,  of  itself,  is  already  a  boon  to  hu- 


EXPRESSION  OF  GROWTH  97 

manity  and  will  be  a  greater  one.  But,  mean- 
while, men  have  not  learned  to  adjust  themselves 
to  the  economic  change  involved.  The  workman 
is  too  often  regarded  as  a  human  machine;  he  too 
often  so  regards  himself.  The  pride  of  individual 
craftsmanship  is  abated  or  gone;  and  workmen 
through  the  trades-unions,  temporarily  necessary 
for  their  self-protection,  have  still  further  flat- 
tened out  their  individuality.  Add  to  this  the 
fact  that  the  facilities  of  machinery  have  tended 
to  increase  the  qimntity  rather  than  the  quality 
of  the  output,  and  to  create  the  belief  that  suc- 
cess is  to  be  estimated  by  amount  of  production. 
The  result  is  that  machinery  has  tended  too 
much  to  enslave  rather  than  to  liberate  the  work- 
man. From  the  men  at  the  top  who  drive  to  the 
lowest  of  the  men  below  them  who  are  driven  a 
false  issue  is  in  operation.  Machinery,  instead 
of  reheving  the  lot  of  the  toiler  by  permitting 
him  greater  possibiUties  of  indulging  the  Desire 
of  Living,  has  clinched  anew  the  curse  of  labor 
by  making  it  not  a  means  of  Life  but  the  end  of 
Living. 

Consequently,  pride  and  joy  in  labor  are  rare. 
Labor  is  tending,  not  to  invigorate  but  to  devas- 
tate human  life.  There  is  waste  rather  than  con- 
servation of  the  Hves  of  men,  aye,  and  of  women, 
and,  still  more  shameful,  of  children  also.  How 
can  such  conditions  fail  to  make  for  Ugliness, 
material,  moral  and  spiritual?    For  they  are  the 


98  ART  FOR  LIFE'S  SAKE 

antithesis  of  those  which  make  for  Beauty; 
namely,  the  stimulating  and  the  enhancing  of  the 
Need  of  Life  and  the  Desire  of  Living.  They 
contradict  our  natural  instincts. 

For  what  is  the  constant  clamor  of  the  healthy 
child?  Is  it  not:  "Mother,  tell  me  something 
to  do?''  Let  it  be  doing  something  or  making 
something  in  which  it  can  be  interested  and  the 
child  is  happy.  It  is  satisfying  its  instincts  and 
at  the  same  time  heightening  its  nature  through 
the  joy  it  finds  in  the  act  of  work  and  in  the  thing 
produced.  And  to  the  adult  also,  his  or  her  work 
should  be  joy,  a  source  of  stimulus  and  enhance- 
ment of  his  or  her  Need  of  Life  and  Desire  of 
Living.  It  should  be,  and  it  can  be  made  so. 
Further,  it  must  be  made  so,  if  the  democratic 
ideal  of  Life,  Liberty  and  Pursuit  of  Happiness 
is  ever  to  be  reaHzed. 

The  C3niic  will  sneer  at  this  as  moonshine. 
But  the  cynic  is  no  part  of  the  New  Democracy. 
The  man  of  Httle  faith  will  doubt  its  possibility; 
but  in  the  New  Democracy  there  is  no  place  for 
little  faith.  The  man  of  selfish  greed  who  fears 
for  his  profits  will  cry  "To  Hell  with  reform"; 
but  in  the  New  Democracy  there  is  not  even 
standing  room  for  greed  and  selfishness.  The 
soulless  workman  who  would  voluntarily  remain 
a  mere  cog  in  a  machine  will  growl  his  disapproval, 
but  for  the  soulless,  as  for  the  sneerer,  the  faint- 
hearted and  those  who  aggrandize  self  at  the 


EXPRESSION  OF  GROWTH  99 

.  expense  of  the  lives  of  others  the  New  Democracy 
has  no  use.  It  calls  for  the  Faith  that  wiU  re- 
move moimtains,  for  the  Hope  that  can  work  and 
wait,  and  for  the  Love  which  encompasses  both 
Hope  and  Faith  with  the  aureole  of  an  Ideal — 
the  Ideal  of  the  Beauty  of  Life  and  Living. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

NATURAL  BEAUTY  AND  ARTISTIC 
BEAUTY 

LET  us  consider  the  relationship  between 
Beauty  and  Happiness.  What  is  Happi- 
ness in  the  truest  sense  but  the  conscious- 
ness of  Self-ReaHzation?  And  the  means  thereto 
is  Beauty.  That  which  stimulates  and  enhances 
Self -Realization  is  to  each  of  us  for  the  time  being 
Beautiful. 

The  vernacular  of  a  people,  like  its  folklore, 
is  forged  out  of  its  conscious  instincts.  Thus  our 
common  phrase,  "to  have  a  good  time"  is  very 
close  to  the  heart  of  truth.  Boys  and  girls,  yoimg 
men  and  women,  make  up  their  minds  to  have 
a  good  time,  and  when  they  have  had  it,  they  will 
agree  that  they  have  had  a  beautiful  time. 

There  is  more  living  truth  in  these  phrases  of 
quite  ordinary  usage  than  in  much  of  the  wisdom 
of  the  world.  For  what  do  they  involve?  Firstly, 
that  childhood  and  adolescence  are  conscious  of 
the  craving  to  realize  the  Need  of  Life  and  the 
Desire  of  Living;  secondly,  that  they  discover  the 
means  in  Beauty,  and,  thirdly,  that  they  recog- 
nize the  Beautiful  as  Good. 


NATURAL  AND  ARTISTIC  BEAtJTk'     loi 

Thus,  the  colloquialism  of  our  children,  giving 
untutored  expression  to  the  needs  and  desires  of 
their  natural  instincts,  corresponds  with  the 
reasoning  of  Plato  that  the  Good  is  the  Beautiful 
and  the  Beautiful  is  the  Good,  and  that  the 
single  idea  involved  in  both  must  be  the  motive 
and  means  of  man's  material  and  spiritual  uphft. 
That,  in  a  word,  Beauty  and  Morahty  are  twin 
aspects  of  a  single  human  need  and  that  the 
sciences  which  treat  of  them.  Esthetics  and 
Ethics,  though  arbitrarily  separated,  should  be 
in  fact  identical. 

The  notion  that  Beauty  and  Morahty  are  not 
only  separate  but  even  antagonistic  is  due  in  a 
large  measure  to  the  fact  that  Beauty  has  been 
made  responsible  for  a  great  deal  which  Morahty 
quite  properly  condemns.  In  consequence  the 
artist  has  incurred  the  distrust  and  aversion  of 
the  morahst  and  has  retahated  by  asserting  that 
Morality  is  no  concern  of  Art.  But  the  real  cause 
of  the  misunderstanding  Hes  deeper.  It  is  to  be 
found  in  the  fact  that  neither  the  artist  nor  the 
morahst  has  recognized  the  Oneness  of  Life.  Each 
has  viewed  his  subject  in  relation  only  to  a  part 
of  hfe:  namely,  in  relation  to  the  senses.  The 
artist  is  engaged  in  stunulating  the  senses,  the 
morahst  in^^ubdiungjthetn.  Each  is  right,  yet 
simultaneously  wrong,  because  both  treat  the 
senses  as  if  they  represented  the  whole  of  Hfe, 
whereas   they   are   but   the   conscious   avenues 


I02  ART  FOR  LIFE'S  SAKE 

through  which  the  Hfe  of  the  individual  maintains 
communication  with  the  Hfe  outside  itself.  And 
what  is  this  supreme  and  total  thing  —  Life;  as 
represented  in  every  human  being? 

Physically  it  is  explained  as  an  aggregate  of 
coimtless  cells,' each  self-existent  and  obeying  its 
law  of  self-reaHzation,  yet  aU  coordinated  fitly 
and  harmoniously,  so  that  their  mutual  purpose 
is  the  self-reaUzation  of  the  whole.  This  urge  to 
self-realization,  which  in  effect  is  a  continual 
creation  of  self  by  self,  represents  the  mystery  of 
the  generative  force  in  Hfe.  This  complexity  of 
units,  completing  a  totality  of  organism,  may  be 
illustrated,  as  Henri  Bergson  suggests  in  his 
"Creative  Evolution"  (page  i66  of  the  English 
translation),  by  a  hive  of  bees.  "When  we  see 
the  bees  of  a  hive  forming  a  system  so  strictly 
organized  that  no  individual  can  Hve  apart  from 
the  others  beyond  a  certain  time,  even  though 
furnished  with  food  and  shelter,  how  can  we  help 
realizing  that  the  hive  is  reaUy,  and  not  meta- 
phoricaUy  a  single  organism,  of  which  each  bee 
is  a  ceU,  united  to  the  others  by  invisible  bonds? 
The  instinct  that  animates  the  bee  is  indistinguish- 
able, then,  from  the  force  that  animates  the  cell, 
or  is  only  a  prolongation  of  that  force.'' 

But  each  individual  bee  is  also  a  total  organism, 
composed  of  a  complexity  of  self-realizing  units. 
So  the  organism  of  the  hive  is  not  only  an 
illustration  of  the  individual  hvmian  organism, 


NATURAL  AND   ARTISTIC  BEAUTY     103 

but  also  of  the  complexity  of  individuals  that 
compose  the  social  organism. 

The  parallel  stops  short  when  we  take  into 
account  the  scope  of  seK-realization.  The  hive 
and  the  individual  bees,  and  the  cells  comprising 
each  of  the  latter,  perform  their  functions  of  self- 
reaHzation  under  the  impulse  of  an  instinct  which 
apparently  is  directed  solely  to  the  perpetuation 
of  the  species.  But  the  human  organism,  while 
it  primarily  obeys  the  instinct  of  perpetuation, 
consciously  possesses  other  instincts,  and  through 
their  action  on  the  brain  has  developed  an  intelli- 
gence that  accumulates  knowledge  and  utilizes  it, 
is  capable  of  organizing  unorganized  matter  and 
of  creating  tools  and  products  of  its  own  inven- 
tion, and  can  even  speculate  about  conceptions 
that  transcend  the  experience  of  both  its  senses 
and  intelligence.  Man,  in  fact,  is  endowed  with 
instinct,  sensation,  emotion,  volition,  intelligence, 
imagination,  and  with  intuition  that  reaches  ahead 
of  reason  to  spiritual  consciousness.  Self-realiza- 
tion demands  the  satisfaction  of  all  these  Needs 
and  Desires  of  Living;  and  perfection  would  be 
reaHzed  if  all  were  actively  cooperating  so  as  to 
produce  a  harmonious  balance  of  the  whole. 
Meanwhile,  short  of  such  perfection,  the  aim  of 
education  and  of  Hving  should  be  to  approximate 
as  nearly  as  possible  to  a  Harmoniously  Balanced 
Whole. 

Here    again    the    vernacular    is    illuminating. 


I04  ART  FOR  LIFE'S  SAKE 

Our  English  word  "whole"  is  not  only  the  equiva- 
lent of  the  Latin-derived  "unity,"  "oneness," 
but  also  signifies  "healthy."  To  the  man  who 
had  had  "an  infirmity  thirty  and  eight  years," 
Jesus  said,  "Wilt  thou  be  made  whole?"  The 
same  meaning  reappears  in  "wholesome."  Origi- 
nally the  latter  signified  "healthy,  sound  in  mind 
and  body":  for  example;  "Like  a  mildewed 
ear,  Blasting  his  wholesome  brother"  (Hamlet  HI. 
4.65).  Today  its  significance  is  "contributing 
to  health  of  body,  mind  or  character."  But 
still  more  significantly  suggestive  is  the  fact  that 
"health,"  "whole"  and  "holy"  have  a  common 
derivation.  In  fact,  our  northern  ancestors,  with 
their  simple  intuition  divined  the  truth,  that 
holiness  and  health  are  fimdamentally  identical 
and  are  to  be  attained  through  the  development 
of  man's  several  endowments  into  a  harmoniously 
balanced  whole. 

This  truth,  maintained  by  Plato,  became  for- 
gotten or  at  least  neglected  in  practice  through 
the  world's  refusal  to  recognize  the  Wholeness 
of  Life.  Accordingly,  health  ceased  to  be  con- 
sidered in  relation  to  moral  and  spiritual  issues, 
and  holiness  was  divorced  from  its  relation  to 
the  whole  of  Life.  This  refusal  of  the  Wholeness 
of  Life  involved  susjticion  of  the  instincts  and  sen- 
sations; a  subjugation  instead  of  a  wholesome 
development  of  the  "flesh,"  and,  generally,  on 
the  part  of  religion,  a  disregard  of  the  material 


NATURAL  AND   ARTISTIC  BEAUTY     105 

facts  of  life  and  a  detached  preoccupation  with 
the  imagined  conditions  of  a  life  to  come. 

Today,  however,  the  new  Faith  in  Life,  no 
longer  depending  solely  on  intuitions  but  rein- 
forced by  the  knowledge  accumulated  by  science, 
recognizes  as  a  first  principle  the  organic  Oneness 
of  Life  in  the  individual,  and,  as  a  corollary,  the 
potential  Oneness  of  the  Life  of  the  Community. 
And  it  justifies  its  faith  by  works;  by  striving  to 
promote  the  development  of  all  the  constituent 
parts,  so  that  each  may  realize  itseK  by  contribut- 
ing to  the  balanced  harmony  of  the  whole.  Its 
aim,  in  short,  is  Beauty:  the  Beauty  of  Holiness  or 
Wholeness  and  the  Wholeness  or  Holiness  of 
Beauty. 

It  is  this  recognition  of  the  Beauty  of  Whole- 
ness that  will  save  the  pursuit  of  happiness  from 
degenerating  into  mere  pleasure-seeking  on  the 
part  of  the  individual,  or  into  self-realization  of 
the  individual  at  the  expense  of  the  community. 
We  must  practice  and  teach  the  superiority  of 
Organized  Beauty;  that  is  to  say  of  Beauty  which 
is  regulated  and  enhanced  in  accordance  with  the 
principles  of  Fitness,  Unity  or  Wholeness,  Balance, 
Harmony  and  Rhythm;  in  a  word,  of  artistic 
beauty  as  compared  with  unorganized  or  natural 
beauty. 

*        ^        *        *        ^        *        * 

People  are  disposed  to  overlook  the  difference 
between  these  two  kinds  of  Beauty.    They  will 


io6  ART  FOR  LIFE'S  SAKE 

say  of  a  sunset,  for  example,  that  it  is  as  "beauti- 
ful as  a  picture";  or  of  a  picture  that  it  "looks 
so  natural."  But  as  a  matter  of  fact,  a  sunset 
as  we  see  it  in  nature  is  not  beautiful  in  the  way 
that  a  picture  of  it  should  be  beautiful;  and,  if 
a  picture  has  only  its  naturalness  to  commend 
it,  it  runs  the  risk  of  being  a  poor  work  of  Art. 

Nature's  beauty  is  unorganized,  haphazard, 
prodigal  of  detail,  without  finality.  The  eye 
embraces,  for  example,  a  landscape;  with  a  wide 
or  narrow  angle  of  vision,  as  the  case  may  be, 
but  with  no  fixed  limits  beyond  which  it  cannot 
wander.  The  scene  involves  beauty  of  Hues  and 
forms  and  color,  but  they  are  unrelated  to  one 
another.  They  happen  here  and  there  and  there 
is  no  completeness.  Moreover,  there  will  be  a 
far  greater  quantity  of  detail  than  the  eye  can 
receive.  There  is,  in  fact,  from  the  point  of 
view  of  the  observer,  a  waste  of  beauty. 

A  camera  may  reproduce  this  prodigality  of 
detail;  but  a  painter  cannot.  Hence  of  necessity 
he  must  ehminate  certain  things  and  more  or  less 
generalize  or  summarize.  Out  of  this  necessity 
—  and,  be  it  noted,  that  everything  in  Art  as  in 
Life  is  conditioned  by  necessity  and  that,  in  both, 
the  highest  results  are  obtained  by  conforming 
to  necessity  —  the  painter  has  formulated  the 
first  principle  of  his  work.  He  simplifies  by 
Selection;  discovering  the  sahent  and  the  charac- 
teristic and  eliminating  the  unessentials.    This 


NATURAL  AND  ARTISTIC   BEAUTY     107 

represents  his  first  step  in  passing  from  the  painter 
to  the  artist.  The  second  is  reached  when  he 
proceeds  to  organize  the  objects  he  has  selected; 
so  that  his  picture  will  comprise  a  Unity,  deter- 
mined and  complete,  in  which  all  the  parts  are 
related  to  one  another  and  to  the  whole  in  a 
balanced  Harmony.  By  this  time  his  picture  is 
a  work  of  Art. 

We  can  now  see  why  it  is  that  we  may  tire  of  a 
scene  in  nature  and  yet  find  a  constant  and  in- 
greasing  deUght  in  an  artist's  rendering  of  the 
scene.  It  is  because  by  organizing  the  im- 
organized  material  the  artist  has  enhanced  the 
natural  beauty.  He  has  done  for  the  expressional 
quality  of  Beauty  what  another  man  does  for 
Labor,  when  he  replaces  the  haphazard,  wasteful 
and  inconsequent  methods,  which  men  naturally 
adopt,  by  Scientific- Artistic  Organization.  Both 
increase  the  eflSciency  of  the  result,  by  working 
for  wholeness  rather  than  disintegration. 

And  Wholeness  again  is  Healthfulness.  The 
cells  in  a  healthy  himian  organism  are  realizing 
themselves  by  cooperating  together  in  the  reali- 
zation of  the  whole.  This  further  explains  why  a 
work  of  art  will  move  us  more  deeply  and  contin- 
uously than  a  work  of  nature.  It  satisfies  our 
more  or  less  conscious  instinct  of  self-realization; 
contributes  to  our  will  to  live  more  fully.  It 
enhances  our  Need  of  Life  and  Desire  of  Living. 

So  the  function  of  the  artist  is  twofold:  firstly, 


io8  ART  FOR  LIFE'S  SAKE 

to  discover  the  beauty  in  unsuspected  aspects 
of  Life;  and,  secondly,  to  show  us  how  we  may 
enhance  the  Value  of  Life  by  Organization. 

It  is  his  privileged  function  to  awaken  the 
sluggish  senses,  the  indifferent  inteUigence,  and 
to  give  living  witness  through  the  expression  of 
his  Art  to  the  abundance  of  the  Beauty  of  Life 
and  Living.  But  it  is  also  his  higher  privilege  to 
point  the  way  to  an  enhanced  Beauty  of  Life  and 
Living  which  may  be  attained  through  superior 
Organization. 

And  there  is  another  aspect  of  the  difference 
between  organized  and  unorganized  beauty  which 
is  worthy  of  consideration.  We  speak  in  our 
loose  way  of  an  artist's  feeling  for  the  sentiment 
or  poetry  of  nature.  But  sentiment  implies 
sensations,  emotions,  intelligence;  poetry  is  a 
product  of  added  imagination  and  of  a  gift  of 
utterance.  Nature,  however,  is  inanimate,  im- 
passive. "If  man  should  perish  utterly  from  the 
earth,"  as  Turgenieff  said,  "not  a  needle  of  the 
pine  forest  would  tremble."  Sentiment  is  not  in 
nature  but  in  man;  and  the  artist  is  discover- 
ing the  human  need  of  feeling  in  himself  when 
he  makes  a  landscape  interpret  some  mood  of 
sentiment  or  poetry. 

Now  observe  the  analogy  to  this  in  business. 
We  are  continually  reminded  that  there  is  no 
sentiment  in  business.  Certainly  there  is  not, 
any  more  than  there  is  in  nature.    But  there 


NATURAL  AND   ARTISTIC  BEAUTY     109 

may  be  sentiment  in  the  business  man  even  as 
there  is  in  the  artist.  He  may  approach  the 
problems  of  industry  and  commerce,  not  indeed 
in  a  sentimental  spirit,  but  with  a  reasonable 
sentiment  or  feehng  for  the  rights  of  all  to  Life, 
Liberty  and  Pursuit  of  Happiness;  bent  on  making 
the  necessity  of  business  not  only  more  productive 
but  more  humane,  and  a  means  to  the  promotion 
of  Beauty  of  Life  and  Living.  As  a  matter  of 
fact  thousands  of  business  men  are  doing  this 
already.  As  they  apply  to  the  imorganized  or 
rudely  organized  material  of  labor  principles  of 
superior  organization,  such  as  are  involved  in  the 
method  of  the  artist,  they  are  becoming  con- 
sciously influenced  also  by  the  motive  of  the 
artist.  As  they  realize  that  the  change  of  method 
is  working  for  Social  Betterment,  they  include 
betterment  in  their  program  and  are  making 
even  business  an  expression  of  the  sentiment  of 
Beauty. 

No,  Beauty  as  the  supreme  motive  in  Life  and 
Living  is  not  an  idle  chimaera !  It  is  already  being 
practically  tested  and  foimd  efficient.  The  time, 
indeed,  is  ripe  for  all  thinkers  and  workers  of 
whatsoever  kind  in  the  field  of  hiunan  progress  to 
get  together  and  to  proclaim  aloud  the  watchword 
of  Beauty  as  the  motive  of  the  New  Democracy. 

Beauty,  the  aim  of  Life  and  Living;  and  Scien- 
tific-Artistic Organization,  the  means  thereto! 


CHAPTER  XIV 
BEAUTY  IN  ART 

THE  understanding  of  Beauty,  as  that 
which  stimulates  and  enhances  in  us  the 
Need  of  Life  and  the  Desire  of  Living, 
is  unalloyed  with  fancifulness  or  sentimentality. 
It  is  on  sure  ground,  because  it  is  based  upon  the 
physiological  facts  of  human  nature.  It  is  one 
that  men  and  women,  no  matter  what  their  voca- 
tion may  be,  can  lay  hold  of  and  apply  to  their 
own  experience.  It  is  equally  one  that  can  be 
grasped  by  the  immature  mind  of  the  child. 
Beauty,  so  understood,  is  the  urge,  the  impulse  of 
growth  of  the  Whole  Life,  the  Healthy  Life,  the 
Holy  Life  in  all  its  faculties  of  sensation,  emotion, 
volition,  inteUigence,  reasoning,  imagination  and 
intuition.  It  is  that  which  impels  to  the  full  and 
free  recreating  continually  of  self  by  self  which 
in  the  highest  sense  is  Living.  On  the  other 
hand.  Ugliness  is  that  which  checks  and  dimin- 
ishes the  Need  of  Life  and  the  Desire  of  Living, 
tending  toward  atrophy,  the  moribund  and  death. 
To  enforce  the  practical  and  ideal  value  of  this 
understanding  as  a  basis  of  conduct  and  a  goal 
of  ideal  striving,  I  propose  briefly  to  show  its 
application:    firstly,   to  the  artist  and    to  our 


BEAUTY  IN  ART  m 

appreciation  of  works  of  Art;  secondly,  its  appli- 
cation to  the  life  of  the  individual  and  to  the 
Collective  Betterment  of  the  community. 

What  is  it  that  impels  an  artist  to  his  particular 
kind  of  art?  I  am  thinking,  of  course,  of  the 
artist  who  works  in  the  spirit  of  free  inspiration; 
not  of  him  who,  having  acquired  a  facility  in 
doing  something,  repeats  himself  for  the  mere 
purpose  of  making  a  living. 

It  is  an  old  saw  that  an  artist  is  not  made  but 
bom.  This,  as  we  should  phrase  it  today,  is 
the  recognition  of  the  physiological  cause  of  one 
man  being  a  painter,  another  a  musician,  a  third 
a  poet  and  so  on.  His  physiological  equipment 
has  an  overmastering  bias  in  such  and  such  a 
direction,  so  that,  if  this  bias  is  not  checked  or 
is  of  sufficient  momentum  to  surmoimt  obstacles, 
he  naturally  realizes  himself  in  some  one  or  other 
of  the  forms  of  Art.  But,  while  the  saying  is  true 
in  its  primary  statement  it  is  not  true  in  its 
secondary  implication:  namely,  that  the  artist 
is  thereby  different  from  other  men.  For  it  is 
equally  true  of  men  whose  physiological  bias 
results  in  their  becoming  surgeons,  industrial 
organizers,  statesmen;  who  display  a  genius  for 
machinery,  invention  or  teaching;  or  distinguish 
themselves  as  workers  in  wood  or  metal  or  indeed 
in  any  direction  whatever;  provided,  I  suppose, 
that  they  are  working  in  enthusiasm.     For  it  is 


112  ART  FOR  LIFE'S  SAKE 

only  when  this  quality  goes  with  skill  that  a  man 
in  any  department  of  action  can  properly  be  con- 
sidered an  artist. 

An  artist,  in  the  specific  sense,  shares  with  his 
fellow-men  the  Need  of  Life  and  Desire  of  Living 
and  craves  for  that  which  will  stimulate  and  en- 
hance both.  He  is  notably  sensitive  to  the  sen- 
sations derived  from  the  world  of  sight,  the  forms 
and  colors  of  things,  their  relations,  harmonies 
and  rhythms.  They  arouse  in  his  imagination 
abstract  sensations  of  ideal  harmonies,  relations, 
color  schemes  and  forms.  Both  the  concrete 
and  the  abstract  sensations  stimulate  and  enhance 
his  Need  of  Life  and  Desire  of  Living.  He  dis- 
covers in  them  a  vast  source  of  what  is  good  in 
Life,  of  what  makes  Living  a  joy.  The  concrete 
inspires  him,  in  the  truth-revealing  idiom  of  our 
vernacular,  to  "feel  good";  and  feehngs,  still 
more  good,  are  aroused  by  the  abstract  sensations, 
by  his  own  mentally  recreated  image  of  the  world 
of  actual  sight.  Yet,  so  far,  he  has  not  proved 
himself  different  from  a  very  great  many  laymen; 
he  has  not  fitted  a  form  to  his  impressions  either 
of  the  concrete  or  the  abstract  sensations;  he 
has  not  yet  demonstrated  that  he  is  an  artist. 

But  he  has  the  constructive  faculty,  the  need 
and  the  desire  to  find  a  form  for  his  image,  and 
he  experiences  the  pangs  of  parturition.  He  must 
give  birth  to  his  vision  in  a  shape  that  may  be 
sensible  to  others  besides  himself.  If  he  is  a  painter 


BEAUTY  IN  ART  113 

it  is  to  his  arm  and  hand  that  the  constructive 
energy  rushes  for  an  outlet;  it  tingles  in  his 
fingers  and  streams  like  a  fluid  force  from  their 
tips.  He  has  probably  experienced  the  sensa- 
tion from  earliest  youth  and  has  discovered  only 
one  way  to  satisfy  it:  to  take  a  pencil,  crayon  or 
brush  and  set  it  moving  in  response  to  the  crea- 
tive impulse  within  him.  He  has  found  it  to  be 
the  readiest  and  most  natural  way  of  satisfying 
his  Need  of  Life  and  Desire  of  Living. 

Watch  him  as  he  summons  the  vision  into 
clarity  in  his  brain.  He  is  apt  to  make  passes 
in  the  air  with  his  hand,  outhning  the  masses 
of  his  mental  composition.  Then  watch  him  put 
pencil  or  charcoal  to  paper.  He  is  still  making 
tentative  passes,  allowing  the  tool  to  leave  only 
faint  indications  on  the  paper  and  mostly  in  lines 
that  suggest  the  salient  volumes  of  the  composi- 
tion. He  is  feeling  for  the  form  and  for  its  proper 
place  within  the  area  of  the  paper.  For  he  is 
already  composing  in  response  to  the  principles 
of  Fitness,  Unity  and  Balance.  At  this  period  his 
drawing  presents  something  of  the  effect  of  a 
landscape,  viewed  through  a  mist.  Only  masses 
are  faintly  visible.  But,  as  later  the  mist  will 
withdraw  and  reveal  the  objects  in  clearer  and 
clearer  distinction;  so  with  the  drawing  —  its 
forms  grow  gradually  to  definition  and  character. 

For  the  act  of  drawing,  as  practiced  by  an 
artist,  is  an  act  of  birth  and  growth.     He  may 


114  ART  FOR  LIFE'S  SAKE 

use  a  model  to  reinforce  his  sense  of  structure 

and  of  action  in  the  figure;  but  it  should  be  only 

as  a  stimulus  to  his  creative  faculty.    If  he  merely 

imitate  the  model,  the  result  betrays  itself  at  once 

to  the  seeing  eye  as  not  having  the  quality  of 

creativeness,  of  being,  indeed,  nothing  but  a  more 

or  less  clever  stunt.    It  ought  to  be  not  the  model, 

but  the  image  in  his  brain  to  which  he  is  giving 

form;    and  as  he  feels  the  latter  grow  beneath 

his  hand,  he  experiences  that  enhancement  of 

Living  which  comes  of  recreating  seK  through 

self. 

******* 

An  artist,  like  every  one  else,  has  times  when 
the  weight  of  things  drags  down  upon  him,  the 
zest  of  Life  is  faint  and  the  need  and  power  of 
creation  fail  him.  But,  when  he  is  properly  him- 
self, the  forms  and  colors  of  the  visible  world 
stimulate  his  Need  of  Life  and  Desire  of  Living. 
They  are  to  him  Beauty,  and  it  would  be  beauti- 
ful to  further  enhance  his  craving  for  recreating 
self  through  self  by  giving  form  to  the  vision  they 
have  aroused  in  his  brain.  So  he  draws  or  paints 
his  picture;  primarily,  to  satisfy  his  own  need 
of  self-realization;  secondarily,  in  the  hope  that 
it  may  stimulate  and  enhance  the  Need  of  Life 
and  Desire  of  Living  in  others.  To  every  one 
whose  craving  for  Life  he  thus  heightens  his  pic- 
ture is  Beautiful. 


CHAPTER   XV 
STANDARDS  OF  BEAUTY  IN  ART 

LET  us  briefly  analyze  how  a  work  of  art 
affects  us  with  a  sense  of  Beauty;  that  is 
to  say,  with  a  sense  that  our  Need  of  Life 
and  Desire  of  Living  are  stimulated  and  enhanced. 
We  have  been  speaking  particularly  of  the  painter 
and  his  picture;  but  our  hne  of  thought  embraces 
the  worker  in  any  work  of  Art  whatsoever,  even 
the  workers  in  the  arts  outside  the  specific  field 
of  art.  For,  as  we  proceed  with  our  subject,  I 
hope  it  is  appearing  to  be  more  and  more  incon- 
gruous to  separate  by  an  arbitrary  barrier  the 
so-called  artist  and  very  many  of  the  so-called 
laymen.  The  analogy  between  the  professed  art 
of  the  former  and  what  may  be,  and  in  so  many 
cases  is,  the  art  of  the  latter,  becomes  constantly 
more  evident;  since  it  is  an  analogy  based  on 
physiological  Oneness:  the  essential  Oneness  of 
himian  nature  and  the  essential  Oneness  of  the 
spirit  of  man  in  its  striving  after  better  and 
higher  Life. 

It  is  often  said,  and  really  it  amoimts  almost 
to  a  truism,  that  in  order  to  appreciate  a  work 
of  Art  we  must  enter  into  the  spirit  of  the  artist; 


ii6  ART  FOR  LIFE'S  SAKE 

assume  as  far  as  possible  his  point  of  view  and, 
as  far  as  we  can,  see  his  work  through  his  own 
eyes. 

We  have  noted  that  an  artist  finds  stimulus 
and  enhancement,  that  is  to  say,  Beauty,  in  the 
world  of  sight;  and  that  he  experiences  another 
stimulus  and  enhancement  of  his  need  of  creating 
self  by  self  in  giving  a  form  to  his  vision.  Here 
then  are  two  sources  of  Beauty;  the  one  coming 
to  him  from  outside  himself,  the  other  originating 
within  him  in  his  need  and  desire  to  create.  The 
latter,  as  we  have  said,  is  what  constitutes  his 
claim  to  be  an  artist.  It  is,  in  fact,  his  need  to 
incorporate  his  vision  in  some  form,  his  ability 
to  do  so  and  his  skill  in  doing  it  —  in  a  word  his 
capacity  of  technique.  Quite  naturally,  there- 
fore, efficiency  of  technique  occupies  a  chief  place 
in  the  artist's  endeavor  as  well  as  in  his  estimate 
of  his  own  work  and  that  of  his  fellow-craftsmen. 
To  him  efficiency  of  technique  is  Beauty;  for  his 
joy  in  the  power  that  he  thereby  possesses  and 
his  exercise  of  it  stimulate  and  enhance  his  Need 
of  Life  and  Desire  of  Living. 

This  fact,  however,  is  overlooked  by  too  many 
people  in  their  endeavor  to  enter  into  the  point 
of  view  of  the  artist.  They  are  satisfied  to 
appreciate  in  a  general  way  the  expression  of  the 
picture,  but  miss  the  additional  enthusiasm  of 
studying  how  the  spirit  is  embodied  in  the  tech- 
nique, of  discovering  the  interpenetration  of  cause 


STANDARDS  OF  BEAUTY  IN  ART  117 

and  effect  which  vitaHzes  both  into  a  Oneness 
of  Beauty. 

Are  you  a  baseball  enthusiast?  If  so,  you 
attend  a  game  generally  with  a  preference  for 
the  success  of  one  or  other  of  the  teams.  Should 
the  players  of  your  preference  win  you  are  elated. 
But,  if  the  stimulus  and  enhancement  of  hfe  that 
you  derive  from  the  game  be  limited  to  this,  you 
are  a  poor  sort  of  enthusiast.  What  about  the 
skill  of  the  players  in  both  teams,  even  in  the 
beaten  one:  their  efficiency  of  technique?  Do 
you  not  watch  every  movement  of  the  play,  stimu- 
lated to  enthusiasm  by  its  surprises  of  skill? 
Indeed,  provided  the  technique  of  the  players 
has  been  excellent,  you  are  reconciled  even  to 
the  defeat  of  your  favorites. 

Now  the  fact  that  baseball  is  a  game  of  highly 
specialized  technique  and  that  it  is  the  national 
game,  is  suggestive.  It  proves  that,  as  a  nation, 
Americans  can  appreciate  efficiency  of  technique. 
Moreover,  in  other  activities  of  Ufe,  proofs  of  this 
abound.  Yet  it  is  also  true  that  there  is  no  one 
thing  that  the  country  needs  more  imperatively 
than  a  vitalizing  sense  of  the  Beauty  of  Efficient 
Technique.  We  are  apt  to  be  obsessed,  on  the 
one  hand,  with  the  importance  of  size  and  quantity 
rather  than  quahty  and,  on  the  other,  with  the 
eagerness  to  "get  there"  quickly  —  "there" 
being  the  goal  of  quickest  profits.  Both  in  the 
trades    and    the    professions    practice    outstrips 


ii8  ART  FOR  LIFE'S  SAKE 

preparation;  people  crowd  into  work  for  which 
they  are  only  partially  equipped  and,  since  the 
amount  of  their  output  is  mainly  the  standard 
by  which  they  are  judged,  seldom  have  the 
opportunity  or  the  ambition  to  improve  their 
technique. 

The  result  is  that  our  ruling  principle  is  not,  as 
it  should  be,  "the  best  is  none  too  good"  but 
Peer  Gynt's  easy  opportunism — "good  enough.'* 
Men  are  satisfied  if  they  can  make  their  work 
"go"  or,  to  use  another  of  our  slang  idioms, 
"get  away  with  it."  The  work  is  intended  only 
to  satisfy  a  temporary  convenience  or  tickle  a 
momentary  sensation,  and  is  accepted  in  a  cor- 
responding spirit  of  easy  tolerance.  It  is  used 
today,  discarded  and  forgotten  tomorrow.  From 
the  material  with  which  we  clothe  our  persons 
and  furnish  our  houses  to  the  printed  matter 
which  supplies  our  mental  food  and  the  forms  of 
amusement  that  fill  our  idle  hours,  almost  every- 
thing is  ephemeral;  produced  in  a  hurry  and 
hurriedly  used  without  reflection.  So  long  as  it 
serves  its  brief  purpose,  it  is  "good  enough." 
The  result  is  a  plethora  of  unmatured  craftsmen, 
passing  out  their  half-baked  goods  to  a  pubHc  of 
immature  knowledge  and  taste.  Notwithstanding 
our  vast  system  of  education  we  put  a  premium 
on  mediocrity  of  motive  and  achievement  and  are 
in  danger  of  becoming  a  nation  that  is  too  busy 
or  too  tired  to  think. 


STANDARDS  OF  BEAUTY  IN  ART  119 

In  our  haste  for  results  we  neglect  the  principle 
that  is  implied  in  "art  for  art's  sake"  :  namely, 
that  the  foundation  of  all  good  work  is  pride 
and  delight  in  the  doing  of  it  well.  What  is 
lacking  is  Morality.  For  both  the  exercise  and 
the  appreciation  of  fine  craftsmanship  are  the 
products  of  sincerity,  of  conviction,  of  beHef  in 
the  essential  value  of  what  one  sets  out  to  do 
and  of  respect  for  the  work,  for  ourselves  and  for 
our  fellow-beings.  Contrasted  with  this,  the 
attitude  of  "good  enough"  is  essentially  immoral; 
a  systematic  prostitution  of  what  is  best  to  what 
is  easy  and  expedient. 

In  the  Wholeness  of  anything  that  is  made  or 
done  the  form  is  inseparable  from  the  thing. 
You  do  something  "with  a  bad  grace"  and 
thereby  impair  the  whole  goodness  of  the  act. 
To  use  fine  ornament  on  shoddy  material,  or  to 
apply  it  to  fine  material  with  poor  craftsmanship, 
is  to  insure  that  the  thing  will  not  be  wholly 
good.  Technique,  indeed,  is  inseparable  from 
the  form.  It  becomes  not  only  "  bone  of  its  bone  " 
but  spirit  of  its  spirit.  It  enhances  or  it  mars  the 
goodness  of  the  whole. 

•X-  *  *  4f  *  *  * 

On  the  other  hand,  embodied  in  the  artist's 
technique  are  the  spirit  and  substance  of  the 
vision  of  beauty  which  his  mind  has  recreated 
out  of  the  beauty  of  the  world  of  sight  and  from 
his  own  experience.    Let  us  take,  as  an  example, 


I20  ART  FOR  LIFE'S  SAKE 

the  work  of  the  painter.  The  substance  of  his 
picture  is  what  is  popularly  called  the  subject; 
the  spirit  being  represented  in  the  quahty  of  the 
motive,  with  which  he  has  treated  it.  Thus,  in 
the  case  of  Raphael,  the  subject  may  be  Madonna 
and  Child,  while  the  spirit  animating  it  is  the 
purity,  peace  and  loveliness  of  motherhood.  We 
shall  be  apt  to  appreciate  —  that  is  to  say  esti- 
mate and  value  —  the  subject  in  two  ways. 
First,  objectively,  according  to  our  knowledge  and 
observation  of  things  seen,  and,  second,  subjectively, 
according  to  our  prepossessions  in  favor  of  such 
and  such  a  type  of  feminine  beauty.  But  the 
spirit  of  the  picture  will  draw  even  more  largely 
on  our  subjectivity.  Whether  we  appreciate  it 
or  not  will  depend  upon  our  mental  and  spiritual 
attitude  toward  the  subject  in  particular  and 
toward  Life  in  general;  upon  the  sum  total  of  our 
mental  and  spiritual  experiences  and  consequently 
upon  the  kind  of  Beauty  that  we  crave  for  the 
stimulus  and  enhancement  of  our  Need  of  Life 
and  Desire  of  Living. 

It  may  be  that  we  are  not  conscious  of  mental 
and  spiritual  cravings;  or  that  the  cravings  of 
which  we  are  conscious  have,  on  the  one  hand, 
not  yet  reached  the  point  of  growth  of  the  artist's 
or,  on  the  other  hand,  passed  beyond  what  he 
had  needed  to  stimulate  and  enhance  his  own 
need  of  growth.  Thus,  the  Beauty  of  the  subject 
and  spirit  of  a  picture  is  relative.    It  depends, 


STANDARDS  OF  BEAUTY  IN  ART  121 

not  only  upon  our  capacity  of  appreciation  and 
need  for  the  time  being  of  just  such  stimulus  and 
enhancement  as  it  offers,  but  also  upon  the  scope 
and  quality  of  the  artist's  own  need  and  desire 
of  self-realization  at  the  time  he  painted  the 
picture. 

He  may  have  felt  only  the  urge  of  the  senses, 
in  which  case  he  will  appeal  solely  to  our  own 
need  and  desire  of  stimulating  and  enhancing 
the  sensations.  Our  enthusiasm,  like  his,  will 
be  confined  to  the  sense  perceptions  of  sight  and 
touch.  We  shall  enjoy  the  shapes  and  colors  and 
textures  of  his  forms;  the  evidence  of  vitality 
which  they  exhibit ;  the  skill  with  which  each  has 
been  made  to  occupy  its  own  plane  in  relation 
to  the  others  and  to  the  whole;  the  general  har- 
mony of  arrangement  in  the  forms  and  colors. 
The  artist,  taking  the  raw  material  of  nature  — 
be  it  but  some  fruit  and  vegetables  —  has  by 
eliminating  the  unessential  quahties  and  em- 
phasizing the  salient,  and  by  organizing  his 
material  into  a  harmonious  unity,  enhanced  its 
natural  Beauty.  We  may  receive  from  his  pic- 
ture not  only  a  greater  sense  of  Beauty  than  we 
might  have  derived  from  the  raw  material,  but 
also  a  very  enjoyable  heightening  of  our  sense 
perceptions.  For  what  the  artist  has  done  is  to 
lift  our  perception  from  concrete  to  abstract 
sensation.  And  it  is  the  abstract,  overriding 
personal,  local  and  temporal  perceptions,  par- 


122  ART  FOR  LIFERS  SAKE 

taking  as  it  does  of  the  universal,  which  affords 
the  most  powerful  and  elevating  stimulus.  We 
recognize  in  this  fact,  for  example,  the  reason  why 
a  story  such  as  that  of  Othello  and  Desdemona 
might  in  actual  life  disgust  us,  contributing  as 
we  say  to  the  sensational;  whereas  in  the  play, 
because  it  has  been  treated  in  its  abstract  relation 
to  universal  humanity,  we  may  discover  a  purify- 
ing and  ennobling  tragedy. 

Again,  an  artist,  while  feeling  more  or  less  the 
need  of  stimulating  his  sense  perceptions,  may  also 
require  an  urge  to  growth  through  his  emotions. 
His  work  becomes  more  subjective;  interprets, 
as  the  phrase  is,  the  moods  of  his  own  feelings. 
They  may  range  from  tender  sentiment  to  moods 
of  spirituality,  from  joy  to  sadness,  from  romantic 
ardor  to  heights  of  tragic  intensity.  Or  again, 
the  urge,  instead  of  being  purely  emotional  may 
be  tempered  by  the  operations  of  his  intelligence 
and  reason.  It  will  be  through  interpreting  his 
experience  of  the  feelings  of  others,  outside  him- 
self, that  he  will  realize  his  own  growth.  He  will 
prove  himself,  in  various  degrees,  an  analyst  and 
estimator  of  the  causes  and  consequences  of  happi- 
ness and  pain  in  the  world  about  him,  and  will 
interpret  the  conclusions  of  his  experience,  either 
solely  as  they  occupy  his  intelligence  and  reason- 
ing or  as  his  imagination  correlates  them  to  the 
universal  issues  of  human  Hfe. 


STANDARDS  OF  BEAUTY  IN  ART  123 

What  is  true  of  the  artist  as  painter  is  corre- 
spondingly true,  with  modifications,  of  the  artist  in 
any  other  department  of  art.  The  musician,  for 
example,  quick  to  feel  his  Need  of  Life  and  Desire 
of  Living  stimulated  and  enhanced  by  the  visible 
world,  is  gifted  with  a  supersensitive  sound-sense 
which  impels  him  to  translate  his  impressions  into 
structures  of  melody  and  harmony.  The  poet, 
dramatist  or  novehst,  alert  to  the  stimulus  of  the 
world  of  sight  and  sound,  is  so  constituted  that 
he  subjects  his  impressions  to  processes  of  intelli- 
gence and  reasoning  or  heightens  them  by  the 
gifts  of  his  imagination,  and  then  revisualizes  in 
terms  of  words  his  vision  of  things,  as  they  are  or 
as  he  would  have  them  be.  In^jveQL  rase  the 
artist  derives  from  common  life  the  urge  which 
stimulates  and  enhances  his  own  Need  of  Life 
and  Desire  of  Living  and  weds  it  to  the  urge 
within  himself  of  giving  a  form  to  his  impressions 
and  thus  recreating  self  by  self.  Correspondingly 
his  work  of  art  will  heighten  our  own  need  of 
growth  and  self-realization  in  so  far  as  our  needs 
and  desires  approximate  to  his,  either  through 
our  own  actual  experience  or  through  the  imagined 
experience  that  his  gift  of  suggestion  enables  us 
to  share  with  him. 

Thus  the  Work  of  Art  is  not  only  a  growth 

>U)ut  of  the  artist's  need  of  individual  growth  but 

a  source  of  recreating  growth   that  stimulates 

growth  in  others.    It  is,  or  may  be,  the  highest 


124  ART  FOR  LIFE'S  SAKE 

perceptible  expression  or  symbol  of  that  perpetual, 
endless  process  of  recreation  which  is  Life. 

Meanwhile,  just  as  Ygdrasil,  figured  by  our 
Teutonic  forefathers  as  the  "Tree  of  Existence," 
had  its  myriad  diversities  of  branches,  twigs  and 
leafage,  corresponding  to  the  infinite  varieties  of 
human  capacity,  so  vary  also  the  scope  and  quaHty 
of  the  artist's  faculty  to  stimulate  and  enhance 
the  growth  of  Life.  They  vary  according  to  the 
scope  and  quaHty  of  his  own  need  of  growth- 
enhancement;  as  to  whether  they  embrace  one 
or  more  or  all  of  the  elements  of  the  whole  con- 
scious life;  namely,  sensation,  emotion,  voHtion, 
inteUigence,  reason,  intuition  and  imagination. 
There  are  artists  a  plenty  who  feel  the  need  of 
satisfying  only  their  sensations;  there  have  been 
a  few  who  have  felt  the  urge  to  satisfy  all  the  needs 
of  their  organism.  They  are  the  great  Artists; 
who  have  come  nearest  to  being  Whole  Men  and 
whose  Art,  by  reason  of  its  Wholeness,  has  a  high 
universal  significance. 

*        *         ***** 

In  order  that  a  man  may  approximate  toward 
Wholeness  of  ideal  and  conduct  it  would  seem, 
at  any  rate  in  a  democracy,  that  he  must  mingle 
sympathetically  and  understandingly  with  the 
larger  Hfe  outside  himself.  And  this  the  great 
majority  of  artists  in  America,  if  I  mistake  not, 
fail  to  do.  They  miss,  so  they  say,  an  "art 
atmosphere"  and,  accordingly,  retreat  into  the 


STANDARDS  OF  BEAUTY  IN  ART    125 

privacy  of  their  own  studios  or  the  narrow  and 
narrowing  congeniality  of  professional  cliques. 
Thus  they  retaUate  upon  an  unsympathetic  and 
non-understanding  world  by  limiting  their  own 
sympathies  and  cutting  themselves  off  from  a  full 
and  free  comprehension  of  their  fellow-men. 
Eschewing  the  larger  Ufe  of  human  fellowship, 
they  starve  their  own  individual  growth;  and 
hold  aloof  from  the  democratic  hosts,  like  Achilles 
sulking  in  his  tent  because  he  could  not  have 
things  entirely  his  own  way. 

And  who,  if  not  the  artists,  should  be  foremost 
in  creating  an  "art  atmosphere '7  But  an  atmos- 
phere that  will  penetrate  the  community  cannot 
be  created  by  sprinkling  patchouli  in  studios 
or  burning  little  pots  of  incense  in  coteries.  It 
can  only  come  of  the  free,  full  commingling  of 
the  artist  and  the  layman  in  reciprocity  of  sym- 
pathetic understanding;  the  one  stimulated  to 
comprehend  and  value  the  other  by  the  latter's 
eagerness  to  value  and  comprehend  him;  in  fact, 
by  a  getting  together  of  all  in  the  interests  of 
the  Whole  Life  of  the  community. 

The  consequent  absence  of  such  a  sense  of 
mutual  comradeship,  which  would  be  truly  an  art 
atmosphere,  not  only  saps  the  higher  growth  of 
the  community  but  also  reacts  upon  the  artist, 
lessening  his  growth  and  unfitting  him  to  be  the 
highest  expression  of  the  Life-spirit  of  his  time. 
For  our  atmosphere  is  astir  with  mighty  forces, 


126  ART  FOR  LIFE'S  SAKE 

making  for  extraordinary  material  development 
and  none  the  less  for  developments  that  are 
spiritual  and  social.  From  every  part  of  the 
Union  is  gathering  the  impulse  toward  a  fuller, 
freer,  richer  and  higher  Democracy.  Never  yet 
has  there  been  in  the  air  such  a  volume  of  hope 
and  promise  for  humanity.  But  of  this  atmos- 
phere of  material,  mental  and  spiritual  uplift 
how  much  have  our  artists  breathed?  We  are 
still  waiting  for  the  poet  and  the  musician  who  can 
do  for  New  America  what  Goethe,  Beethoven  and 
Wagner  did  for  yoimg  Germany;  for  the  drama- 
tist and  noveUst  who  can  visualize  the  bigness 
of  American  endeavor  and  its  spiritual  eagerness, 
as  well  as  for  the  painter  and  sculptor  who  can 
interpret  the  same  in  their  respective  mediums. 
Only  the  architect,  so  far,  is  grappling  with 
American  problems  in  the  American  spirit.  And 
the  reason  is  clear.  He  only  is  brought  in  touch 
with  the  large  conditions  of  Life  and  compelled 
to  adjust  himself  to  their  demands. 

For  when  the  truly  American  artist  arrives, 
it  will  be  found  that  his  Americanism  will  not  be 
declared  so  much  in  his  choice  of  subject,  as  in 
the  largeness  of  his  outlook  upon  Life  and  the 
grandeur  of  his  spiritual  horizon. 

Full  of  the  passion  of  life  and  strong  in  the 
honesty  of  Art  for  Art's  sake,  he  will  have  at- 
tained the  supreme  goal  of  Art  for  the  sake  of 
Life. 


CHAPTER  XVI 
UGLINESS  IN  ART 

IF  the  artist's  motive  is  Beauty,  can  there  be 
a  place  for  Ugliness  in  a  Work  of  Art?  The 
question  seems  to  involve  its  own  answer  in 
the  negative.  Yet  the  matter  is  not  as  simple 
as  it  appears  upon  the  surface.  Artists  them- 
selves have  wrangled  over  the  question,  while  to 
laymen  the  appearance  in  a  work  of  art  of  what 
they  feel  to  be  ugly  has  been  a  stumbHng-block. 
The  fact  is  that  laymen  and  artists  alike  have 
been  prone  to  judge  of  Beauty  and  Ugliness  by 
the  narrow  standard,  too  common  among  reH- 
gionists  and  moraHsts.  "  Orthodoxy  is  my  doxy," 
is  the  virtual  creed  of -many  a  rehgionist,  "the 
other  fellow's  doxy  is  heterodoxy";  while  some 
morahsts,  at  least, 

"Condone  the  sins  they  are  inclined  to 
By  damning  those  they  have  no  mind  to." 

Let  us  note  a  few  of  the  squabbles  concerning 
Beauty  and  Ugliness,  that  have  occurred  during 
the  past  century  in  the  story  of  Painting.  When 
in  1824  Delacroix,  the  chief  exponent  of  the 
Romantic  movement  in  pictorial  art,  exhibited 
his  Massacre  of  Chios,  the  picture  was  stigmatized 


128  ART  FOR  LIFERS  SAKE 

by  one  of  the  artists  of  the  Academic  motive  as 
"the  massacre  of  painting/'  It  was  said  to  be 
"barbarous"  and  calculated  to  drag  French 
painting  down  to  "destruction."  Later,  his 
critics  characterized  Delacroix  as  "the  tattooed 
savage  who  paints  with  a  drunken  broom." 
Some  twenty-five  years  later  Romanticists  and 
Academicians  forgot  their  mutual  antagonism 
in  a  common  scorn  of  Courbet,  the  reahst.  He 
was  the  "Anti-Christ  of  painting,"  his  work  the 
"ruination  of  art."  Today  there  is  a  group  of 
painters  in  Paris  who  are  called  the  "Wild  Men." 
"Artists  and  laymen  shook  their  heads,' not  know- 
ing what  to  make  of  them.  Some  smiled  and 
went  indifferently  on,  while  others  were  indignant 
in  their  condemnation  of  this  degradation  of  art." 
These  words  might  have  been  written  of  the 
"Wild  Men."  As  a  matter  of  fact,  however, 
they  were  directed  against  Courbet,  whose  work 
today,  thanks  to  the  perspective  of  time  and  re- 
flection, can  be  estimated  dispassionately  and 
understandingly.  Accordingly,  it  finds  its  place 
now  in  the  National  Museum  of  the  Louvre,  side 
by  side  with  the  work  of  other  "revolutionists," 
who  were  judged  by  their  contemporaries  to  be 
compassing  the  "destruction,"  "ruination"  and 
"degradation"  of  the  art  of  painting. 

The  moral  of  these  examples  among  many  is, 
on  the  one  hand,  that  the  art  of  painting  is  not 
stationary,  with  fixed  boundaries  and  sacrosanct 


J 


UGLINESS  IN  ART  129 

methods  and  motives,  but  a  living  growth,  con- 
tinually adjusting  itself  to  the  growing  conditions 
of  social  ideals;  and,  on  the  other,  that  Beauty 
and  Ugliness  are  not  absolute  but  relative. 


The  Academician,  since  his  method  and  motive 
are  based  on  the  example  of  the  Classic  tradition, 
which  he  has  derived  chiefly  from  the  ancient 
sculpture  and  architecture  of  Greece  and  Rome 
or  through  the  Florentine  painting  of  the  Re- 
naissance, loves  to  preserve  in  its  integrity  and 
purity  the  contour  of  lines  around  his  figures 
and  to  put  the  latter  in  attitudes  of  "ideal"  grace 
and  dignity;  lines  and  masses  building  up  to  a 
stately  composition.  To  secure  this  "abstract" 
result  and  in  pursuance  of  what  he  has  made  his 
"ideal,"  the  Academician  "improves  on  nature." 
This,  in  his  case,  means  that  he  presupposes  an 
absolute  perfection  of  form,  and  an  absolute  per- 
fection of  composition,  based  upon  the  canons 
of  Greek  art.  Accordingly,  he  omits  aU  the 
irregularities  and  individualities  of  form,  which 
in  nature  make  up  the  personal  character  of  the 
figure,  and  also  places  the  figures  in  attitudes  and 
groupings,  selected  primarily  to  make  a  dignified 
composition  and  not  for  the  purpose  of  expressing 
the  action  in  which  they  are  supposed  to  be 
engaged.  Thus,  to  the  out-and-out  Academician 
"abstract"  means  withdrawn  from  the  facts  of 


I30  ART  FOR  LIFE'S  SAKE 

life,  while  "ideal"  is  something  lifted  above  the 
attainment  of  human  nature. 

This  understanding  of  the  terms  "abstract"  and 
"ideal"  overlooks  one  principle  of  art  that  was 
never  overlooked  by  the  Greeks:  namely,  fitness. 
If  the  Greeks  had  made  a  statue  of  a  peasant 
sowing,  they  would  have  preserved  his  identity 
as  a  peasant  and  seen  to  it  that  his  attitude  and 
gesture  were  efl&cient  for  the  act  of  sowing.  That 
they  did  not  use  a  peasant  as  a  subject  was  because 
they  considered  labor  a  degradation  and  exacted 
it  from  helots  or  slaves. 

Contrasted  with  the  motive  of  the  Academician 
is  that  of  the  Romanticist.  It  is  not  static  repose 
which  attracts  the  latter  but  the  dynamic  force 
of  life;  exhibited  in  character  rather  than  in 
form,  in  color  rather  than  in  line;  and  interpre- 
tive of  the  ardor  and  passion  of  human  striving 
and  achievement.  Delacroix,  for  example,  con- 
tended that  in  their  place  and  degree  the  flat  nose 
and  huge  lips  of  the  negro  may  be  as  beautiful 
as  the  delicate  elegance  of  a  Narcissus;  while  to 
himself  one  of  Rembrandt's  portraits  of  an  old 
man  or  woman  by  reason  of  its  irregularities  and 
imperfections,  so  eloquent  of  the  individual  life, 
was  infinitely  more  beautiful  than  the  devitalized, 
despirituaUzed,  mannered  perfection  of  the  Aca- 
demician. And,  even  as  his  point  of  view  was 
diametrically  opposed  to  the  latter's,  so  was  his 
method    of    painting.    Like    his    contemporary 


UGLINESS  IN  ART  131 

Romanticist  in  literature,  Victor  Hugo,  indeed 
like  all  Romanticists  in  any  medium,  he  composed 
in  color;  relying  not  on  clearly  outlined  definition 
but  on  the  effect  of  masses,  vivid  with  movement, 
often  startling  in  the  surprise  of  their  unusualness, 
orchestrated  into  harmonies  of  color,  tone  and 
value  of  light  and  shade. 

Meanwhile,  all  life  is  not  made  up  of  stress  and 
storm,  and  the  Romanticist,  in  his  zest  for  passion 
and  the  unusual,  is  disposed  to  draw  his  themes 
from  times  and  places  whose  distance  lends 
enchantment  to  the  view.  Accordingly,  as  the 
attitude  of  the  modem  world  became  one  of 
scientific  study  of  the  world  of  nature  and  the 
present  concerns  of  life,  the  Romanticist  was 
superseded  by  the  Naturalist  and  the  Realist, 
each  of  whom 

"Finds  tongues  in  trees,  books  in  the  running  brooks, 
Sermons  in  stones  and  good  in  everything." 

To  each  the  idea  of  Beauty  is  Truth  to  nature  and 
to  life,  as  he  sees  and  feels  it;  particularly  in  the 
more  normal,  everyday  aspects  of  experience. 
In  these,  what  the  Academicians  call  "Ugliness" 
and  the  Romanticist,  "  Commonplace,"  take  their 
place  in  harmony  with  what  all  are  agreed  is 
Beautiful.  For  even  as  hght  imifies  the  antago- 
nisms of  color  and  form  in  nature,  so  the  Wholeness 
of  life  draws  good  and  bad  into  a  harmonious 
ensemble.    Just  as  light  affects  the  values   of 


132  ART  FOR  LIFE'S  SAKE 

relation  in  the  world  of  outside  nature,  so  the 
var3dng  values  of  human  nature  become  har- 
monized when  viewed  through  the  embracing 
medium  of  the  Whole  of  Life.  -jLn  fact,  it  is  by  the 
study  and  realization  of  the  multiplex  values  of 
Life  and  the  harmonizing  of  these  relative  simi- 
larities and  contrasts  into  an  Organized  Harmony, 
that  the  artist  would  stimulate  and  enhance  in 
himseK  and  others  the  Need  of  Life  and  Desire 
of  Living.  Thus,  in  the  present  day,  so  occupied 
with  the  phenomena  of  nature  and  the  problems 
of  Hf e  and  living,  either  Naturalism  or  Realism  has 
become  the  chief  motive  in  every  branch  of  art. 


CHAPTER   XVII 
NATURALISM  AND   REALISM 

IT  is  customary  to  use  these  terms,  Naturalism 
and  Realism,  as  if  they  were  equivalent  in 
meaning.  But  even  then  it  is  necessary  to  dis- 
tinguish between  two  kinds  of  naturalism,  or  two 
kinds  of  realism,  as  the  case  may  be.  Accordingly, 
it  is  convenient  to  adopt  the  habit  which  is  coming 
into  vogue  of  making  Naturalism  stand  for  one  of 
these  distinctions  and  ReaHsm  for  the  other. 

Both  the  Naturalist  and  the  Reahst  take  the 
material  of  nature  and  preserve  its  natural  charac- 
ter even  when  they  enhance  its  significance  by 
organizing  it.  The  difference  appears  in  the 
scope  of  the  significance,  as  a  result  of  the  scope 
of  the  artist's  point  of  view.  Is  he  satisfied  to 
hmit  his  view  of  Ufe  to  the  actual  conditions  and 
characters  which  are  the  immediate  object  of  his 
study?  Or  does  he  view  the  same  in  relation  to 
the  larger  issues  of  Life  as  a  Whole?  Is  he  simply 
a  NaturaUst,  enhancing  our  appreciation  of  the 
facts  selected,  or  does  he  by  his  capacity  to  cor- 
relate these  particular  facts  to  universal  principles 
merit  the  higher  title  of  Realist? 

One  artist,  for  example,  will  organize  his  vision 
of  men  and  things  into  a  play,  true  to  the  condi- 


134  ART  FOR  LIFE'S  SAKE 

tions  of  Life  represented  and  to  the  conflict  of 
characters  involved,  and  thereby  intensify  our 
realization  of  this  particular  phase  of  Life.  An- 
other, for  example  Ibsen,  will  do  the  same  and 
more;  for  he  will  make  us  view  this  selected 
cross-section  of  Life  in  relation  to  the  large  back- 
groimd  of  some  universal  idea,  such  as  that  of 
individual  responsibihty,  based  upon  the  free 
exercise  of  the  will.  His  play,  in  consequence, 
will  have  the  significance  of  universal  Truth; 
while  the  significance  of  the  naturalistic  play  will 
be  rather  episodical,  a  matter  of  fidelity  to  what 
is  temporary,  personal  and  local. 

While  Darwin  was  engaged  in  his  observations 
of  nature,  he  was  the  Naturalist;  when  he  cor- 
related the  results  with  one  another  and  with 
a  possible  principle  of  the  origin  of  species,  he 
was  the  Realist.  After  he  had  accumulated  his 
knowledge,  he  fertilized  the  knowledge  with  im- 
agination. From  a  segment  of  facts  he  set  him- 
self to  complete  the  circle  of  a  universal  truth. 
He  extended  the  actual  facts  so  as  to  embrace 
the  possible  fact  of  a  universal  plan  of  Life,  which 
at  first  existed  only  in  his  imagination  as  an 
idea.  So  today  in  all  the  laboratories  of  research, 
scientists,  as  they  bend  over  their  microscopes 
and  test-tubes,  perform  the  necessary  function 
of  the  Naturalist,  collecting  and  verifying  the 
data  with  which  they  or  other  scientists  will  per- 
form the  fimction  of  the  Realist  who  in  imagina- 


NATURALISM  AND  REALISM      135 

tion  already  conceives  the  idea  and  in  practice 
works  toward  the  ideal  of  a  regenerated  race — 
healthy,  whole  and  holy. 

The  Sociologist,  grappling  with  problems  of 
poverty  and  crime,  may  limit  his  labor  to  the 
alleviation  of  actual  local,  temporal  and  personal 
conditions,  or  may  endeavor  to  extend  his 
knowledge  of  immediate  cause  and  effect  to  the 
ultimate  possibilities  of  cause  and  effect,  con- 
tained within  the  wide  circle  of  the  Body  Social. 
Thus  it  was  as  a  Realist  that  George  Bernard 
Shaw  said:  "Poverty  is  a  crime  and  Society  is 
the  criminal."  Others  again  serve  our  need  of 
the  Naturalist  when  they  investigate  the  tene- 
ment-house problem;  they  are  serving  the  fuller 
and  deeper  need  of  the  Realist,  in  so  far  as  they 
view  their  subject  in  relation  to  the  extended 
circle  of  city  planning  and  improvement  that 
make  for  healthier  and  holier  conditions  of  the 
Whole  Life.  The  same  distinction  holds  good 
in  industry  and  commerce.  One  man,  in  oper- 
ating his  store  or  factory,  will  concentrate  his 
purpose  solely  with  a  view  to  the  output  of 
business.  Another  with  a  somewhat  wider  angle 
of  intention  will  find  that  it  is  good  for  business 
to  do  something  for  the  "welfare"  of  his  em- 
ployees. If  his  ideal  stop  here,  he  is  but  a  nat- 
uralist. I  have  a  case  in  mind:  A  palatial 
establishment  with  lunch  rooms,  sim-parlors  and 
an  emergency  ward;  on  the  one  hand,  a  magnifi- 


136  ART  FOR  LIFE'S  SAKE 

cent  advertisement,  and,  on  the  other,  a  humane 
policy — at  least  iupon  the  surface.  But  so  far 
his  scheme  involves  only  a  low  average  wage  for 
the  rank  and  file  of  the  girls  whom  he  employs. 
These  girls,  who  are  becoming  habituated  to  lux- 
urious surroundings  and  are  learning  to  feel  the 
need  of  them  outside  the  shop,  receive  an  average 
weekly  wage  of  about  five  dollars!  Their  em- 
ployer can  scarcely  have  viewed  their  condition 
in  relation  to  the  moral  and  economic  problem 
of  the  Social  Whole.     He  is  not  a  Realist. 

The  point  to  be  emphasized  is  that  the 
Realist  extends  the  actualities  of  facts  to  em- 
brace the  possibilty  of  greater  and  nobler  actu- 
alities. He  works  for  the  Wholeness  of  Life. 
Gifted  with  imagination,  he  is  a  seer,  a  prophet, 
poet;  inspired  with  an  idea  and  working  toward 
an  ideal,  which  shall  advance  the  boundaries  of 
the  local,  temporary  and  personal,  in  an  endeavor 
to  complete  the  circle  of  the  Whole  Life.  He  is 
the  true  idealist.  For  while  the  dreamer-idealist 
conceives  his  idea  or  ideal  and  tries  to  squeeze 
the  world  of  men  and  things  into  the  mold  of 
his  own  invention,  the  practical-idealist,  the  Real- 
ist, works  by  nature's  methods.  Firmly  footed 
on  the  actualities  of  fact,  he  takes  the  material  of 
life  and  helps  it  to  evolve  from  itself  its  own  growth 
toward  higher  and  higher  conditions  of  individual 
and  collective  Health,  Wholeness  and  Holiness. 


CHAPTER   XVin 
RELIGION,   MORALITY  AND  ART 

RELIGION,  Morality  and  Art  should  be 
inseparable  in  the  Wholeness  of  Life. 
For  Religion  represents  man's  attitude 
toward  the  universal;  Morality,  the  code  of 
conduct  which  he  shapes  thereto,  while  Art  is 
inevitably  the  symbol  or  expression  of  what  he 
has  made  his  code  of  conduct  and  of  his  attitude 
toward  the  universal.  Too  long  have  men,  with 
their  inveterate  habit  of  disintegrating  the  Whole- 
ness of  Life  and  of  erecting  arbitrary  and  arti- 
ficial barriers,  treated  these  necessaries  of  life  as 
separate.  The  reason  is  that  they  have  deposed 
Art  from  its  high  position  as  the  interpreting 
element  which  cements  the  union  of  ReUgion  and 
Morality. 

It  was  not  so  in  the  days  of  the  Renaissance; 
for  the  Itahans  were  a  people  who,  like  the  Greeks, 
instinctively  invested,  as  John  Addington  Symonds 
says,  "  every  phase  of  their  intellectual  energy  with 
the  form  of  art.''  They  interpreted  in  terms  of 
Art  both  their  attitude  toward  the  universe,  which 
mingled  the  Medieval  faith  with  the  Religion  of 
the  New  Learning,  and  their  Morahty  which  had 
grown  out  of  these  two  sources  of  inspiration. 


138  ART  FOR  LIFE'S  SAKE 

Art  was  the  high  intellectual,  emotional  and 
spiritual  expression  of  the  union  of  the  needs  of 
the  body  and  the  soul. 

Meanwhile,  north  of  the  Alps,  the  Renaissance 
did  not  contribute  to  the  unification  of  ReHgion 
and  Morality  as  they  existed,  but  developed  into 
a  protest  against  the  conditions  involved  in  both. 
Men  began  to  submit  both  Religion  and  Morahty 
to  reason  and  evolved  the  ideals  of  religious  and 
poHtical  liberty.  But,  as  reason  usurped  the  func- 
tions of  the  whole  mind,  Art  was  driven  from  its 
rightful  place.  It  drifted  away  from  the  vital 
concerns  of  Life  and  became  an  appendage  of 
fashion,  interpreting  the  passing  whims  of  the 
privileged  few.  And,  as  the  unifying  influence 
of  Art  was  removed.  Religion  to  a  great  extent 
lost  its  hold  on  the  emotions  and  imagination  of 
mankind,  and  Morality  hardened  into  a  narrow 
code  that  ignored  the  Oneness  of  Life  and  set  up 
arbitrary  restrictions  against  the  development  and 
growth  of  the  Whole  Life. 

Today  Morahty  and  Religion  are  practically 
divorced  and  each  in  its  separateness  is  character- 
ized by  differences  rather  than  unity.  Rehgion  is 
disintegrated  into  sectarianism,  and  Morality, 
while  professing  to  be  uniform,  exhibits,  as  for 
example  in  the  question  of  divorce,  confusion  in 
its  code  of  conduct.  But  in  this  very  disintegra- 
tion and  confusion  there  is  hope  for  the  future, 
since  they  represent  a  reaction  from  rigidity  and 


RELIGION,  MORALITY  AND   ART    139 

narrowness  and  are  the  necessary  preliminaries  to 
a  reconstruction,  more  clearly  reflecting  man's 
attitude  toward  the  universal  and  toward  his  owi^ 
Whole  Life  and  the  Wholeness  of  the  Life  of  the 
Community. 

What  is  needed  today  is  the  restoration  of  Art 
to  its  proper  place  in  the  hfe  of  the  individual  and 
the  community.  Art,  however,  must  be  restored 
not  in  its  rigid  and  narrow  sense,  but  in  its  old 
wide,  universal  preeminence  as  the  unifying 
medium  of  the  ideal  and  the  practical. 

*  -X-  *  "}(•  *  *  -Jf 

It  is  a  significant  fact  that  with  the  decline  of 
Art  as  a  prime  factor  of  Life,  there  grew  into  exist- 
ence the  science  of  poUtical  economy.  It  was 
reason's  substitute  for  Art.  Originally,  as  the 
name  implies,  it  was  rather  an  art  than  a  science, 
the  art  of  extending  to  the  affairs  of  state  the 
principles  of  good  housekeeping,  developed  in  the 
home.  By  the  nineteenth  century,  however,  it 
shrank  into  a  narrower  scope  and  became  chiefly 
concerned  with  principles  governing  the  production 
and  distribution  of  wealth.  It  has  grown  to  be 
the  Bible  of  Mammon,  and,  in  the  opinion  of  many 
thinkers,  is  totally  inadequate  as  a  solution  of 
the  problems  which  today  affect  the  lives  of  in- 
dividuals in  relation  to  the  Whole.  Life  of  the 
community.  Hence  a  new  system  of  economics 
is  in  process  of  formation;  one  that  is  based  upon 
the  physiological  and  material  facts  of  life  and,  em- 


I40  ART  FOR  LIFE'S  SAKE 

bracing  the  ideal  as  well  as  the  practical,  endeavors 
to  harmonize  the  relations  of  man  with  himself 
and  with  his  fellows.  Every  problem,  say  these 
thinkers,  is  a  question  of  economics.  Economics, 
in  fact,  represent  to  them  the  Art  of  Life  and  Liv- 
ing. From  their  own  point  of  view  and  in  their 
own  way  they  are  working  in  the  spirit  that  in- 
spires this  book  and  to  the  same  end.  In  fact,  from 
various  directions  all  roads  of  earnest  thought  are 
leading  today  toward  an  identical  goal,  the  Whole- 
ness of  Life  and  Living. 

^         4^         *         *         *         *         -:^ 

But  now  to  return  to  our  topic  of  a  previous 
chapter.  Ugliness  in  Art.  We  may  seem  to  have 
digressed  from  it;  but  I  hope  it  is  rather  that  we 
have  pursued  the  subject  by  a  curve  of  thought 
rather  than  a  straight  line;  and  that  the  curve  has 
contributed  to  the  realization  of  two  points:  that 
the  distinction  between  Beauty  and  Ugliness  is 
a  matter  of  relativity  and  that  both  are  moral 
questions. 

The  artist  is  often  afraid  of  the  words  moral 
and  morality.  He  has  seen  a  writer  set  out  to 
urge  a  moral  issue  in  his  poem,  novel  or  play,  and 
become  so  carried  away  by  the  zeal  of  the  preacher 
as  to  sacrifice  the  intrinsic  Beauty  of  the  Work  of 
Art.  Painters,  similarly,  will  sometimes  forget 
that  they  are  artists  and  occupy  themselves  with 
moral  narratives.  But  to  recognize  these  mis- 
appHcations  of  the  true  function  of  Art  does  not 


RELIGION,  MORALITY  AND   ART    141 

justify  the  sweeping  statement,  frequently  made, 
that  there  is  no  relation  between  Art  and  Morals. 
Such  an  attitude  is  absolutely  fallacious,  if  we 
accept  Art  as  the  unifying  medium  in  Life.  Nor 
can  we  conceive  of  Beauty  as  that  which  stimulates 
and  enhances  the  Need  of  Life  and  Desire  of  Liv- 
ing, without  at  once  recognizing  that  the  tendency 
and  motive  powers  of  Art  are  moral.  It  is  only 
by  rejecting  these  ideas  of  Art  and  Beauty,  and 
by  putting  both  back  in  the  narrow  pigeonhole  of 
being  concerned  alone  with  problems  of  line  and 
form  and  color  that  you  can  evade  the  moral  issue. 
Beauty  and  Ugliness,  in  faci,  are  equivalent  to 
good  and  bad. 

What,  for  example,  an  artist  puts  into  a  picture, 
in  response  to  his  own  need  and  desire  of  self- 
realization,  of  recreating  self  by  self,  is,  for  him  at 
least.  Beauty  and  Good.  Contrariwise,  whatever 
finds  its  way  in  as  the  product  of  check  in  his 
healthy  growth,  is  Ugliness  and  Bad.  Thus,  in 
his  own  case.  Beauty  and  Ugliness  are  relative. 
They  become  also  relative,  and  with  a  complexity 
of  cross  relations,  in  the  effect  that  his  picture  may 
have  upon  others.  What  was  Beauty  to  him  may 
have  the  effect  of  Ugliness  upon  ourselves  and  vice 
versa,  according  as  our  Need  of  Life  and  Desire  of 
Living  does  or  does  not  correspond  to  his. 

Let  us  select  a  concrete  illustration.  Titian  at- 
tained to  within  a  few  months  of  a  century  of 
active  work,  and  at  an  age  when  the  vigor  of  most 


142  ART  FOR  LIFE'S  SAKE 

men  is  ebbing,  took  on  a  new  lease  of  life.  His 
masterpiece,  already  alluded  to,  the  Equestrian 
Portrait  of  Charles  F,  was  one  of  the  works  of  his 
seventy-first  year.  From  that  point  onward  his 
religious  works  became  more  poignant  and  solemn; 
while  his  nudes  lost  the  vigorous  wholesomeness 
of  the  earlier  ones  and  grew  to  be  appeals  to  the 
sensuous  enjoyment  of  female  loveliness.  Such 
are  the  Venuses  and  so-called  Poesies  of  the  Prado, 
which  were  furnished  to  Philip  II.  It  was  the 
artist's  habit  to  include  one  of  these  with  each  of 
the  religious  pictures  which  he  forwarded  for  the 
approval  of  his  royal  patron.  Are  we  to  suppose 
that  Titian  deliberately  tickled  Philip's  well-known 
propensity  for  both  kinds  of  subject  and  regard 
these  nudes  as  evidence  of  the  artist's  own 
decadence? 

It  is  scarcely  possible  to  dismiss  them  with  so 
summary  a  judgment,  in  view  of  the  quality  of  his 
latest  religious  pictures.  These  culminated  in  the 
intensely  moving  and  spiritually  exalted  Pietd  on 
which  he  was  working  when  the  plague  carried 
him  off.  It  was  "reverently  completed"  by 
Jacopo  Palma,  the  Younger,  and,  as  it  hangs  today 
in  the  Academy  of  the  Fine  Arts  in  Venice,  the 
brushwork  of  the  one  artist  cannot  be  distinguished 
from  that  of  the  other.  But  the  conception  and 
composition  are  Titian's;  so  too  is  the  character 
of  the  expression.  It  is  that  of  a  master  whose 
great  age,  while  it  had  dimmed  his  physical  vigor, 


RELIGION,  MORALITY  AND   ART    143 

had  but  endowed  him  with  a  profounder  insight 
into  the  spiritual  depths  of  Life. 

Therefore  may  we  not  rather  discover  in  these 
nudes  a  necessary  step  in  Titian's  evolution 
toward  the  deeper  religious  emotion  which  solem- 
nized his  later  years?  For  we  have  already  dwelt 
upon  the  fact  that  aU  growth  in  Life  and  in  Art 
is  through  the  senses,  which  are  the  only  stairways 
of  approach  to  the  loftiest  chambers  of  the  intellect 
and  soul.  A  man  having  reached  his  highest 
chamber  may  shut  himself  therein,  denying  aU 
intercourse  with  outside  life,  and  conceivably  do 
some  great  work.  But  this  is  not  the  way  of  the 
great  artist;  his  genius  needs  to  be  constantly 
refertilized  through  his  sensations.  So  considered, 
these  nudes  were  the  product  of  Titian's  Need  of 
Life  and  Desire  of  Living;  marked  by  a  decHne  in 
the  natural  wholesomeness  of  his  physical  force, 
but  indicating  no  moral  or  spiritual  decadence. 

Yet,  if  this  be  granted,  the  question  will  arise: 
How  are  we  to  regard  the  effect  of  these  nudes 
upon  others?  While  a  source  of  Beauty  to  the 
artist,  may  they  not  prove  to  others  the  occasion 
of  Ugliness?  There  is  no  doubt  they  may  and 
will,  in  the  case  of  those  who  are  not  fortified  by 
experience  and  conviction  to  resist  their  possibil- 
ities of  suggestiveness.  Then,  it  will  be  urged, 
is  there  danger  to  others  in  exhibiting  them? 
Unquestionably.  Therefore,  should  not  their  pub- 
lic exhibition  be  discontinued,  even  as  a  censorship 


144  ART  FOR  LIFE'S  SAKE 

is  exercised  upon  the  exhibition,  for  example,  of 
moving  picture  shows? 

Before  answering  this  question,  however,  another 
is  in  order.  What  was  the  intent  of  that  which 
may  appear  objectionable  in  a  moving  picture 
show?  Was  it  in  response  to  Beauty  or  to  Ugh- 
ness?  Was  the  motive  of  the  maker  of  the  pic- 
ture to  contribute  to  his  own  life's  growth  and  to 
enhance  that  of  others;  or  was  he  stimulating  the 
decay  of  his  own  life  and  pandering  to  latent  germs 
of  the  moribund  in  others?  This  point  must  be 
determined  before  the  case  can  be  considered  as 
analogous  to  that  of  Titian.  It  is  but  another 
application  of  the  old  truth  that  a  tree  is  known 
by  its  fruit. 

But,  it  will  be  said,  granted  that  the  motive  is 
pure,  may  not  the  effect  be  dangerous  for  those 
who  are  unqualified  by  experience  and  conviction 
to  accept  it  as  a  source  of  healthy  growth  to  them- 
selves? Again  the  answer  must  be:  Unquestion- 
ably. Yet  a  moment's  reflection  will  assure  us 
of  the  fact,  that  to  those  who  are  thus  unqualified 
even  our  streets  are  beset  with  dangers;  every 
newspaper  contains  some  incitement  to  Ugliness; 
not  a  magazine  but  has  some  lurking  danger; 
that,  in  a  word,  life  itself  is  full  of  dangers  —  and 
not  only  from  without  but  from  within.  Our 
bodies  are  the  lurking  places  of  biUions  of  germs 
that,  but  for  the  conflict  they  continually  wage 
upon  one  another,  would  inevitably  produce  our 


RELIGION,  MORALITY  AND  ART     145 

physical  decay  and  death.  Similarly,  there  is  a 
continual  conflict  amid  the  activities  of  our  senses, 
as  they  urge  toward  natural  and  healthy  growth 
or,  through  excess,  to  what  is  moribund.  With 
dangers  rife  within  us,  it  is  not  strange  that  the 
world  without  presents  a  corresponding  labyrinth 
of  dangers.     How  are  they  to  be  faced? 

Perhaps  you  say,  by  lessening  the  opportimities 
of  temptations.  But,  if  you  dam  the  torrent  at 
one  place,  will  it  not  burst  out  in  another?  Is  not 
the  problem  too  vast  to  be  settled  by  patchwork 
methods? 

Moreover  —  and  this  is  a  truth,  too  often  for- 
gotten —  Ugliness  is  no  less  UgHness  because  it  is 
not  seen  of  men;  nor  sin  less  sin  because  it  operates 
in  secret.  Sin  and  Ugliness  are  forces  in  life  which, 
once  started,  begin  by  poisoning  the  life  of  the 
individual  who  is  responsible  for  them;  and  from 
him  spread  their  poison,  no  less  effectually  because 
unsuspected,  to  all  who  come  in  contact  with  him 
and  thence  to  others  in  an  ever-widening  circle. 
This  is  spiritually  as  well  as  physically  a  fact, 
and  to  ignore  it  is  only  a  part  of  our  habitual 
hypocrisy,  which  thinks  to  cure  an  evil  by  smother- 
ing it  out  of  sight  or  pretending  in  the  face  of  facts 
that  it  does  not  exist.  For  the  only  force  which 
can  combat  the  insidious  poison  of  what  is  Bad 
and  Ugly  is  that  of  Good  and  Beauty.  We  have 
got  to  rely  on  the  wholesome  germs  to  coimteract 
the  unwholesome. 


146  ART  FOR  LIFE'S  SAKE 

And  here  arises  a  thought  which  is  illuminating. 
To  make  sure  of  subduing  the  unwholesome  germs 
in  our  bodies  physicians  will  prescribe  an  anti- 
toxin, which,  in  exciting  a  mild  form  of  the  disease, 
prevents  the  virulent.  Does  not  this  throw  light 
upon  the  relativity  of  Beauty  and  UgUness  as  well 
in  Art  as  in  Life?  While  Beauty  is  the  main 
source  of  natural,  healthful  growth  of  Life,  and 
UgHness  is  the  main  source  of  arrested  growth, 
leading  to  decay  and  death;  UgHness  may  at  times 
be  needful  as  an  anti-toxin  for  the  ultimate  de- 
velopment to  Beauty.  The  purist,  in  fact,  who 
denies  this,  dares  to  reject  the  plain  teaching  of 
modem  physiology. 

The  moralist,  however,  if  he  is  an  honest  thinker, 
tries  to  face  every  phase  of  the  complexity  of  Good 
and  Bad,  of  Beauty  and  Ugliness.  If  he  grapples 
with  Ugliness  and  receives  no  harm,  it  is  because 
he  is  also  an  honest  liver,  prepared  by  conviction 
and  experience.  The  conclusion  is  clear:  to 
promote  Beauty  in  oiu*selves  and  others  and  to 
reduce  Ughness  of  life,  we  must  be  honest  thinkers 
and  honest  livers. 

How  far  are  we  training  our  children  in  this 
direction?  What  are  we  doing  in  the  home  and  in 
the  school  to  develop  thinking  and,  particularly, 
thinking  based  upon  knowledge  of  the  Functions 
of  Life  and  the  Science  and  Art  of  Living? 


o 


CHAPTER  XrX 
BEAUTY  AND  UGLINESS  IN  LIFE 

"  ^^""^  H,  Mother,  it  was  beautiful ! "  It  was  in 
this  way  that  a  girl  of  nineteen  who  was 
training  to  become  a  nurse,  summarized 
the  impressions  she  received  from  her  first  ex- 
perience of  a  surgical  clinic.  It  had  occurred 
after  her  day  of  duty  in  the  wards,  which  had 
succeeded  a  class  reunion,  prolonged  with  dancing 
until  early  morning.  She  was  mentally  and 
physically  fatigued.  Her  mother,  knowing  this, 
awaited  with  some  anxiety  the  outcome  of  the 
ordeal.  She  would  have  been  more  anxious  had 
she  also  known  that  the  first  operation  would  be 
performed  upon  a  child,  for  her  daughter  had  a 
singularly  tender  soUcitude  for  children.  The 
following  day,  during  her  hour  off  duty,  the  girl 
reported  to  her  mother.  Bounding  into  the  apart- 
ment without  a  trace  of  fatigue  and  radiant  with 
happiness,  she  flung  herself  into  her  mother's  arms : 
"Oh,  Mother,  it  was  beautiful!" 

As  she  proceeded  to  describe  her  experience  it 
was  upon  the  cleanliness,  precision  and  order  of 
the  proceedings  that  she  commented:  the  perfect 
cooperation  between  all  the  assistants  and  the 
operating  surgeon :  the  marvelous  organization  of 


148  ART  FOR  LIFE'S  SAKE 

the  affair  — the  Art  of  it.  Had  the  operation 
involved  any  slovenHness  or  lack  of  devotion  to  the 
high  seriousness  of  the  occasion,  she  would  have 
been  quick  to  detect  and  resent  it.  As  a  matter  of 
fact,  when  she  gradually  analyzed  her  own  sensa- 
tions, it  was  the  sincerity  of  everybody  concerned 
that  had  left  the  most  lasting  impression.  In  a 
word,  she  had  discovered  something  which  unex- 
pectedly and  strangely  stimulated  her  own  very 
real  Need  of  Life  and  Desire  of  Living.  "Oh, 
Mother,  it  was  beautiful!" 

This  seems  to  me  an  excellent  illustration  of 
the  true  understanding  of  Beauty,  as  it  affects  the 
growth  of  the  individual  in  its  need  of  recreating 
self  by  self. 

For  Beauty  and  Ugliness  in  Life  are  to  be  esti- 
mated solely  as  they  promote  or  retard  growth  in 
Wholeness,  Healthfulness  and  Holiness  of  Life; 
growth  from  within,  self-realization,  the  creation 
of  self  by  self;  not  the  imposing  of  formal  conven- 
tions of  Beauty  and  Ugliness  from  without. 

In  the  present  constitution  of  society  some 
formal  conventions  both  of  written  and  unwritten 
law  are  necessary.  But  they  can  only  be  fit  in  so 
far  as  they  are  voluntarily  imposed  by  the  con- 
sensus of  the  whole  body,  or  at  least  the  real 
majority  of  the  community,  upon  itself.  In  so 
far  as  they  are  in  the  interests  only  of  a  section  of 
the  community  and  are  arbitrary,  repressive  and 
not  conducive  to  voluntary  growth,  they  tend  to 


BEAUTY  AND  UGLINESS  149 

Ugliness  rather  than  to  Beauty.  Meanwhile,  even 
when  voluntarily  imposed  by  a  community  on 
itself,  they  possess  no  perpetual  sanction.  Change 
of  conditions,  resulting  from  the  collective  growth 
of  the  community,  may  cause  that  which  once  had 
been  a  means  of  promoting  growth  to  become  a 
means  of  retarding  it.  By  this  time  such  a  law 
or  convention  makes  for  Ugliness  not  Beauty. 

The  same  applies  to  the  rules  that  it  may  be 
necessary  or  fit  to  impose  upon  a  child  in  the  early 
stages  of  its  development.  They  should,  in  the 
first  place,  be  regulated  in  the  interest  of  the  child 
as  well  as  of  its  elders  and  by  what  is  really  in 
the  interest  of  the  child's  growth,  so  far  as  latest 
science  has  ascertained  it.  Secondly,  they  should 
be  regarded  only  as  temporary  substitutes  for  the 
rules  of  conduct  which  the  child  will  voluntarily 
impose  upon  itself.  Unless  they  tend  to  estabHsh 
in  the  child  a  habit  of  conduct,  controlled  by  its 
own  Will,  in  the  interests  of  its  Whole  Life  and 
that  of  the  conmiunity,  the  rules  are  merely  re- 
pressive and,  so  far  as  they  retard  the  recreation 
of  self  by  self,  are  Ugly. 

A  very  suggestive  side  light  is  thrown  upon  this 
matter  by  the  method  of  instruction  in  drawing, 
which  advanced  educators  have  for  some  time 
adopted  in  the  case  of  children.  Briefly,  they 
treat  it  as  a  means  of  promoting  the  child's  growth. 
They  do  not  impose  upon  it,  as  in  the  old  system, 
the  duty  of  copying  certain  models,  so  as  to  con- 


ISO  ART  FOR  LIFERS  SAKE 

form  as  closely  as  possible  to  what  somebody  else 
has  felt  to  be  beautiful.  They  encourage  the  child 
to  make  its  own  observations  of  the  outside  world 
and  to  record  its  own  vision  in  its  own  way. 

And  in  developing  this  process  of  natural  growth, 
the  educator  has  become  a  student  of  psychology. 
He  has  learned  that  the  child  in  the  early  stages 
of  its  development  is  interested  in  things  as  things 
and  in  things  that  touch  its  life  famiharly.  Thus 
the  teacher  will  invite  the  child  to  make  a  drawing 
of  the  parlor  at  home  or  of  something  in  it;  or, 
finding  that  the  child  has  been  interested  in  the 
scene,  say,  of  a  fire,  encourage  it  to  reproduce 
the  impression  in  a  drawing.  He  tries  to  develop 
the  child's  faculty  of  observation  and  its  interest 
in  its  own  record  of  things  noted. 

Later  in  the  child's  growth  there  develops  an 
interest  in  the  way  in  which  the  record  is  made; 
a  rudimentary  instinct  of  technique  and  crafts- 
manship. If,  for  example,  a  wagon  is  being  drawn, 
the  child  will  be  dissatisfied  unless  the  wheels  seem 
to  be  round  like  real  wheels  and  to  be  really  touch- 
ing the  ground.  If  the  subject  is  a  ladder  set 
against  a  wall,  it  will  correct  and  work  over  its 
drawing  until  it  is  satisfied  that  the  ladder  seems 
to  be  planted  on  the  ground  and  to  be  supported 
by  the  waU  and  that  the  rungs  are  properly 
placed. 

'    Thirdly,  as  the  age  of  adolescence   arrives  a 
.  rudimentary  esthetic  sense  begins  to  stir.     It  is  no 


BEAUTY  AND  UGLINESS  151 

longer  only  observation  and  correctness  of  repre- 
sentation that  interest  the  child,  but  also  a  feeling 
for  the  Beauty  of  the  subject;  for  its  qualities  of 
line  and  form  and  color  and  some  appreciation  of 
the  sentiment  involved. 

These  are  the  successive  steps  which,  in  degrees 
varying  with  the  individual,  mark  in  a  general  way 
the  child's  physiological  development.  Accord- 
ingly, the  scientific  educator  makes  them  the  basis 
of  a  course  of  drawing;  using  the  latter  as  a  means 
to  Self-expression  and  Growth,  not  as  an  end  in 
itself.  For  he  knows  that  if  a  child  has  a  distinct 
gift  of  drawing,  it  will  need  no  encouragement. 
A  child  who  has  the  making  of  an  artist  cannot 
be  restrained  from  drawing;  while,  on  the  other 
hand,  the  child  who  has  not  the  gift,  is  only 
discouraged  in  its  growth  by  an  attempt  to  im- 
pose upon  it  the  discipline  of  drawing  correctly. 
Meanwhile,  if  it  is  encouraged  to  approach  draw- 
ing in  its  own  way  and  as  a  means  of  expressing 
itself,  the  discipline  that  it  will  impose  upon  it- 
self will  assist  its  growth. 

For  it  is  the  Self-discipline  by  the  child  of  its 
own  instincts  and  will,  that  is  the  true  source  of 
Healthy,  Holy  growth  toward  Wholeness  of  Life. 
This  implies  the  need  of  experience;  and,  while  a 
child's  experience  may  be  assisted  by  the  sugges- 
tions derived  from  the  experience  of  others,  it  can 
only  be  acquired  in  such  form  as  to  become  an 
active  constituent  of  its  growth  by  the  child 


152  ART  FOR  LIFE'S  SAKE 

actually  touching  life  for  itself.  Hence  to  shield 
a  child  from  all  contact  with  what  is  assumed  by 
its  parents  to  be  Ugly  may  be  a  mistaken  excess  of 
kindness,  tending  to  retard  rather  than  promote 
the  recreation  of  self  by  self.  Such  a  negation  of 
the  child's  need  of  discovering  its  own  experiences 
for  itself  is  the  result  of  a  sort  of  moral  cowardice 
and  hypocrisy  which  will  tend  to  breed  the  same 
in  the  future  of  the  child.  For  to  pretend  that 
Life  is  all  Beauty  and  that  Ugliness  has  no  part  or 
meaning  or  use  in  it  is  to  give  the  child  a  false 
experience  of  Life  at  the  outset. 

Parents  are  apt  to  say  that  they  wish  the  life 
of  a  child  to  be  "all  sunshine";  that  they  would 
shield  it  as  long  as  possible  from  the  "shadows" 
that  are  to  come.  But  I  wonder  whether  these 
metaphors  are  not  the  product  of  confusion?  We 
use  the  expression,  "darks  and  lights  of  life," 
"life's  sunshine  and  shadow"  and  so  forth  always 
with  the  implication  of  the  mingHng  in  hfe  of 
joy  and  sadness,  of  Beauty  and  Ughness.  Such 
metaphors  are,  of  course,  drawn  from  pictorial 
art,  but  it  is  worth  noting  that  they  misrepresent 
the  true  relation  of  darks  and  lights  in  a  picture. 
For  there  are  three  purposes  for  which  a  painter 
may  employ  chiaroscuro;  and  all  of  them  suggest 
an  interesting  analogy  to  the  relativity  of  Beauty 
and  Ugliness  in  life. 

In  the  first  place,  he  may  introduce  shadows  as 
well  as  light  into  his  picture  in  order  to  increase 


BEAUTY  AND  UGLINESS  153 

the  sense  of  bulk,  substance  and  strength  in  the 
forms;  to  make  the  suggestion  of  life  more  vivid 
and  actual.  Secondly,  the  contrast  may  be 
introduced  in  order  to  enrich  and  give  variety  and 
character  to  the  design.  Thirdly,  the  mutual 
reinforcement  of  Ught  and  dark,  with  their  infinite 
gradations,  may  be  the  means  of  enhancing  the 
picture's  expressional  appeal.  Depth  of  shadow 
in  a  picture  may  suggest  mystery  or  be  designed 
to  arouse  pity,  awe,  even  terror;  yet  the  darkness 
is  not  used  or  felt  as  Ugliness.  It  has  its  share  in 
heightening  the  Beauty  of  the  Whole;  the  reason 
being  that  the  dark  does  not  operate  separately 
but  in  harmony  with  the  light,  both  contribut- 
ing their  relative  value  to  the  enrichment,  the 
moving  power  and  the  significance  of  the  whole 
composition. 

Light  and  shade  in  a  picture  are,  in  fact,  ele- 
ments in  the  composition  of  the  Whole,  just  as 
the  rest  of  the  color  scheme  and  the  lines  and 
masses  are  elements  in  the  Wholeness.  The 
painter  himself,  when  he  has  secured  harmonious 
relations,  cannot  alter  the  quality  or  quantity  of 
these  elements  without  a  dislocation  of  the  Whole. 
Even  if  he  feels  that  the  harmony  and  balance  are 
not  as  complete  as  they  might  be,  he  will  hesitate 
to  alter  anything,  since  one  alteration  would 
necessitate  another,  and  this  yet  another  and  so 
on.  Rather  than  tamper  with  the  sensitive  inter- 
play of  the  relations,  he  will,  in  the  experience  he 


154  ART  FOR  LIFE'S  SAKE 

has  gained  from  this  picture,  commence  another, 
with  the  hope  of  reaching  a  still  more  harmonious 
Whole. 

Nor  in  Life  itself  are  the  relations  between 
Beauty  and  Ugliness  less  sensitively  adjusted.  In- 
deed, the  balance  is  far  more  sensitive,  because  the 
elements  which  compose  it  are  in  continual  growth 
and  movement.  There  can  be  no  constant  factors. 
The  elements,  therefore,  need  to  be  continually 
readjusted;  and,  even  so,  perfection  of  balance 
is  only  to  be  approximated.  Hence  the  futility 
of  laying  down  hard  and  fast  rules  for  the  guidance 
of  a  child. 

The  same  consideration  suggests  also  the  need 
from  time  to  time  of  readjusting  the  principles  of 
Morality  in  order  that  they  may  conform  more 
nearly  with  the  moving  changes  of  Life.  For 
what  is  Morality  but  a  general  consensus  that  such 
and  such  a  balance  of  relations  between  man  and 
man  wiU  best  conduce  to  the  common  good?  It 
can  be  represented  in  diagram  form  by  two  parallel 
straight  Hues  of  unequal  length.  As  long  as  each 
line  retains  its  original  length,  and  the  distance 
between  them  is  unchanged,  their  relations  are 
constant.  But  if  either  of  them  is  lengthened  or 
diminished  or  deviates  from  parallelism  or  the 
space  between  them  is  varied;  then  instantly 
the  balance  of  their  relations  is  disturbed.  In 
the  harmony  of  Life  such  variations  are  occurring 
all  the  time.     Consequently,  no  written  constitu- 


BEAUTY  AND  UGLINESS  155 

tions  or  systems  of  Morality,  however  shrewdly 
they  may  have  been  adjusted  to  the  common  need 
of  their  day,  can  be  appUcable  to  the  needs  of  all 
time.  Hmnan  Kfe  is  continually  outgrowing  the 
best  laid  plans  for  its  regulation.  This  is  as  true 
of  the  individual  Life  as  of  that  of  the  community. 
Hence,  while  society  is  compelled  in  the  interest 
of  the  whole  to  set  up  standards  of  average  con- 
duct, it  must  depend  ultimately  upon  the  conduct 
of  each  individual  composing  it;  and  will  reach  a 
higher  aggregate  standard  by  fostering  in  all  a 
sense  of  independent  responsibihty. 

To  return  to  the  example  of  the  picture:  no 
system  of  rules  can  teach  a  painter  to  secure 
anything  but  a  mechanical  approximation  to- 
ward Harmony  and  Balance.  Certain  principles 
may  help  him;  but  to  give  them  living  applica- 
tion he  must  feel  within  himself  the  Beauty  of 
Harmonious  Balance  and  then  through  his  own 
experience,  successes  and  mistakes  train  himself 
to  create  it. 

The  analogy  holds  in  the  conduct  of  individuals 
and  in  the  training  of  the  child.  You  may  repress 
a  child  with  rules,  but  the  moment  the  pressure  is 
removed  and  your  back  is  turned,  there  is  a  risk 
that  it  will  run  counter  to  the  rules.  For  they 
themselves  run  counter  to  his  inclination,  that  is 
to  say,  the  urge  of  his  natural  instincts  and,  since 
he  has  not  been  trained  to  train  his  own  conduct, 
he  will  follow  his  instincts  blindly. 


iS6  ART  FOR  LIFE'S  SAKE 

And  be  assured  that  sooner  or  later  every  child 
will  wish  to  play  with  Ugliness.  Curiosity  and 
the  spirit  of  adventure  prompt  it  to  touch  Life  for 
itself.  It  will  take  no  one's  word  for  the  unde- 
sirableness  and  danger  of  this  or  that;  it  will 
insist  on  testing  for  itself  the  Ugliness.  The  result 
will  depend  upon  the  condition  of  its  preparedness 
or  lack  of  preparation  to  discover  the  relation  of 
Ugliness  to  Beauty.  Almost  certainly  the  Ugliness 
will  at  the  first  touch  seem  to  be  Beauty.  Actually 
also  it  will  be  a  step  toward  Beauty,  if  the  child 
have  the  habit  of  self-reliance  and  self-responsi- 
biHty.  For  the  child  will  then  for  itself  adjust  the 
relations  between  Beauty  and  Ugliness  and  make  a 
growth  toward  harmoniously  balanced  conduct. 
If,  on  the  contrary,  it  have  no  such  habit,  the  odds 
are  aU  against  the  child.  It  will  discover  the 
partial  Beauty  that  is  in  Ugliness;  but  not  having 
been  trained  to  think  for  itself  and  to  adjust  its 
conduct  to  the  Beauty  of  the  Whole  Life,  it  will 
mistake  the  partial  for  the  Whole  Beauty,  and  be 
in  danger  of  resting  satisfied  with  Ugliness.  Time 
and  experience  and  the  urge  of  growth  in  its  young 
life  may  arrest  the  decay,  but  who  shall  say  what 
it  wiU  suffer  in  the  process  or  in  how  mauled  a 
state  it  will  issue  from  the  ordeal? 

^         *         *         *         *         -x-         * 

Sometimes  one  meets  a  mother  or  a  father  or  a 
teacher  who  has  succeeded  in  helping  the  child  to 
gain  for  itself  its  own  experience  of  the  relations 


BEAUTY  AND  UGLINESS  157 

of  Beauty  and  Ugliness  in  Life ;  to  grow  out  of  itself 
into  a  continually  stronger  growth  of  self-disci- 
plined responsibility,  a  more  harmoniously  bal- 
anced adjustment  of  the  instincts  and  the  will,  a 
superior  fitness  for  the  actualities  of  Hfe  and  a 
habit  of  conduct,  more  penetrated  with  the 
rhythm  of  spiritual  purpose.  When  one  does,  it 
is  to  discover  another  miracle  of  growth.  The 
mother,  the  father,  the  teacher  have  simultane- 
ously promoted  their  own  growth.  By  sympa- 
thetic understanding  of  the  child's  needs,  they 
have  promoted  their  own  need  of  arresting  the 
decay  of  age,  and  have  preserved  a  larger  portion 
of  their  own  youth  and  its  blessed  quaKties  of 
resilience,  and  growth-capacity.  In  such  cases 
one  is  spared  the  unhappy  spectacle,  which  the  old 
system  of  education  too  often  involved,  of  the 
"Httle  mother,''  an  object  of  more  or  less  respect- 
ful pity  to  her  children,  of  the  father  who  has 
drifted  out  of  the  lives  of  his  boys,  of  the  teacher, 
grown  tired  and  stale  from  the  futile  task  of 
imposing  his  or  her  own  will  and  standards  upon 
the  young. 

In  such  cases  there  is  less  or  none  of  that  an- 
tagonism between  the  young  and  the  old  which 
was  all  but  inevitable  under  the  old  system.  For 
age  and  youth  were  not  regarded  as  complemen- 
tary forces  in  the  Harmony  of  the  Whole  Life,  but 
as  encroachments  upon  each  other.  When  the 
New  Generation  knocked  at  the  door,  the  Older 


158  ART  FOR  LIFE'S  SAKE 

trembled.  If  it  could  or  dared,  the  latter  turned 
a  deaf  ear;  then,  if  the  door  were  forced,  treated 
the  young  comer  as  an  intruder,  bent  on  ousting 
it  from  its  hold  on  Hfe. 

What  a  twofold  tragedy  is  pictured  in  Ibsen's 
drama,  "The  Master-Builder!"  The  older  man, 
vainly  trying  to  maintain  his  grip  on  life  by  crush- 
ing the  growth  in  others,  is  at  last  confronted  with 
the  unconquerabiHty  of  the  New  Generation. 
Too  late  he  recognizes  what  reinforcement  to 
himself  the  latter  might  have  been  and  reaches 
out  for  it.  But  the  law  of  life  is  growth  and,  since 
he  has  destroyed  his  own  growth  by  checking  that 
of  others,  he  cannot  enter  into  possession  of  what 
Life  brings  him.  In  his  desperation  he  snatches 
for  it,  fails  in  the  attempt  and  dies.  No  less 
tragic  is  the  unfulfilled  need  of  the  New  Genera- 
tion. It  yearns  to  believe  in  the  Old;  entreats, 
cajoles  and  finally  dares  the  Old  to  justify  its 
belief.  In  vain!  The  law  of  life  is  peremptory; 
what  is  moribund  cannot  grow  back  to  what  it 
might  have  been. 

Ibsen,  with  the  certainty  of  the  analyst,  put 
his  finger  on  one  of  the  diseased  spots  of  the 
civilization  of  his  day;  but  with  the  prescience  of 
the  poet  implied  the  future  remedy.  Too  many 
readers,  however,  miss  this  implication  and  note 
only  the  diagnosis  of  disease.  Hence  they  brand 
as  a  pessimist  the  man  who  has  been  one  of  the 
living  forces  in  the  promotion  of  a  true  optimism; 


BEAUTY   AND   UGLINESS  159 

a  faith,  that  is  to  say,  not  merely  inflated  with 
hope,  but  made  possible  of  realization  because  it 
is  based  on  the  fundamental  facts  of  natural  Hfe. 
Ibsen  makes  in  this  drama  a  plea  for  the  integrity 
of  the  Whole  Life  —  the  union  in  Life  of  New 
and  Old  —  and  for  the  need  of  perpetual  recrea- 
tion of  self  by  self;  yet  not  in  the  way  of  selfish 
aggrandizement  but  for  the  harmonizing  of  the 
self-growth  with  the  growth  of  the  Life  of  the 
Whole. 

Today  we  are  beginning  to  realize  the  unnatural- 
ness  of  imposing  our  will  upon  a  child's  will; 
our  habits  of  thought,  upon  their  still  fallow 
minds;  our  conventions,  on  the  freedom  of  their 
young  lives  which  are  opening  not  to  the  past 
but  to  the  future.  The  child's  growth  must  be 
from  within  itself;  our  share  in  the  evolution  being 
Hmited  to  securing  for  it  the  utmost  possible  help 
of  wholesome  and  invigorating  environment. 
Even  in  the  matter  of  correction,  the  child's  will 
should  be  trained  to  perform  the  operation  for 
itself.  The  child  is  not  a  plant  to  be  pruned  and 
shaped  to  the  will  and  caprice  of  another;  but  an 
organism  to  be  controlled  by  a  will  of  its  own  and 
with  responsibilities  which  it  must  meet  or  evade 
at  its  own  peril.  Any  system  of  education  which 
ignores  this,  stands  convicted  of  ignorance  or 
impotence;  for  it  is  arresting  and  not  promoting 
evolution,  the  continual  recreation  of  self  by  self. 
This  may  seem  a  hard  saying  and  it  is  very  difficult 


i6o  ART  FOR  LIFE'S  SAKE 

of  accomplishment  for  those  who  have  been 
brought  up  under  the  old  system  of  regarding  the 
child  as  something  to  be  shaped,  curbed  and 
fostered  according  to  the  notions  of  its  "elders  and 
betters. '^  But  it  is  a  necessary  corollary  of  the 
principle  of  physiological  human  evolution. 


CHAPTER  XX 

TEE  INVENTIVE-CONSTRUCTIVE 
FACULTY 

IN  his  famous  letter  to  the  Duke  of  Milan 
Leonardo  da  Vinci  enumerates  what  he  is 
able  and  willing  to  do  in  the  Sforza's  service. 
He  is  prepared  in  time  of  war  to  make  Ught  and 
portable  bridges,  scaling  ladders  and  other  engines 
for  offense  and  defense,  and  to  remove  water  from 
ditches  and  excavate  timnels,  even,  if  it  be  neces- 
sary to  pass  beneath  ditches  or  under  a  river. 
"In  time  of  peace, ^^  he  says,  "I  beUeve  I  could 
equal  any  other  as  regards  works  in  architecture. 
I  can  prepare  designs  for  buildings,  whether  public 
or  private,  and  also  conduct  water  from  one  place 
to  another.  Furthermore,  I  can  execute  works  in 
sculpture,  marble,  bronze  and  terra  cotta.  In 
painting  also  I  can  do  what  may  be  done,  as  well 
as  any  other,  be  he  who  he  may." 

Leonardo  is  conspicuous  as  the  most  miiversal 
genius  known  to  history.  Painter,  sculptor  and 
architect,  he  was  also  an  engineer,  inventor  and 
musician.  He  was  a  precursor  of  GaHleo,  Bacon 
and  Descartes,  and  in  optics,  heat  and  magnetism 
anticipated  the  discoveries  of  modern  science. 
"He   united,"   says  Alexander  von   Humboldt, 


i62  ART  FOR  LIFE'S  SAKE 

"remarkable  knowledge  of  mathematics  with  the 
most  admirable  intuition  of  nature."  In  me- 
chanics he  restored  the  laws  of  the  lever  and  was 
the  originator  of  the  science  of  hydraulics;  while 
among  his  inventions  were  derricks,  apparatus  for 
raising  buildings,  rope-making  machinery,  a  stone- 
sawing  machine,  roasting-jack,  machines  for  file- 
cutting  and  grinding  colors,  a  door-spring  and  a 
wheelbarrow.  He  was  also  a  poet,  philosopher 
and  student  of  the  Classics.  Of  exceedingly  hand- 
some face,  with  finely  proportioned  figure,  he 
excelled  in  conversation  and  courtliness  of  manner. 
Leonardo,  in  fact,  was  the  most  signal  example  of 
the  "Whole"  man  of  which  there  is  any  record. 

To  a  passionate  thirst  for  knowledge  he  joined 
extraordinary  constructive  and  inventive  facul- 
ties and  an  ardent  love  of  Beauty.  His  ideal  of 
Beauty  was  so  exacting  that,  although  he  labored 
four  years  over  the  portrait  of  Monna  Lisa,  he 
threw  down  his  brush,  admitting  that  what  he 
sought  to  render  eluded  him.  Yet,  notwithstand- 
ing his  idealism  and  his  profound  researches  into 
the  mysteries  of  nature  and  Hfe  he  could  be  as 
practical  as  any  man  and  found  enjoyment  in 
being  so. 

His  life  is  a  testimony  to  the  fact  that  the  func- 
tions of  one  human  brain  can  embrace  the  specula- 
tive, the  practical  and  the  artistic;  that  there  is 
no  necessary  or  essential  antagonism  between 
these  mental  operations  and  that  a  great  and 


CONSTRUCTIVE  FACULTY         163 

harmoniously  balanced  mind  manifests  the  corre- 
lation existing  between  all  forms  of  mental  activity. 

While  the  universaUty  of  Leonardo's  mind  was 
an  exception,  the  Renaissance  produced  many 
artists  who  combined  with  painting  and  sculpture 
the  practically  constructional  art  of  architecture, 
which,  as  today,  involved  the  art  of  engineering. 
Michelangelo,  for  instance,  commenced  the  dome 
of  St.  Peter's,  carried  forward  its  construction  as 
far  as  the  drum,  and  at  his  death  left  drawings  and 
models  for  the  completion  of  the  structure  up  to 
the  lantern. 

The  example  of  such  generously  rounded  per- 
sonalities recalls  the  origin  of  the  word  "art," 
as  noted  in  a  previous  chapter;  its  significance  of 
fitting  and  joining  and  its  analogy  with  "poet"  — 
the  maker,  creator.  At  the  core  of  Leonardo's 
genius  was  the  desire  of  fitting,  joining,  mak- 
ing, fused  with  the  imaginative  ardor  of  the 
poet — the  instinct  of  invention  and  construction. 
From  this  core  as  a  center  radiated  the  various 
lines  of  direction  along  which  his  creative  energy 
exerted  itself.  The  radii  differed  in  length. 
One  radius,  for  example,  extended  only  to  the 
periphery  of  a  small  circle,  circumscribing  the 
purpose  of  a  wheelbarrow;  a  purely  practical 
scope.  Others  pushed  on  to  adventurous  circles 
of  speculation  in  mechanics  and  natural  philoso- 
phy; others  again  to  gHmmering  border  lines  of 
abstruse  reasoning;  others  to  circles  of  sensation, 


i64  ART  FOR  LIFE'S  SAKE 

as  the  creative  energy  was  exerted  in  constructing 
the  forms  of  musical  or  pictorial  expression. 
These  were  but  a  few  typical  instances  of  the  in- 
numerable radii  of  inventive  and  constructive 
energy,  extending  to  innumerable  concentric  cir- 
cumferences, which  bounded  the  various  scopes  of 
Leonardo's  universal  genius;  all  issuing  from  a 
common  center  —  the  Listinct  of  Invention  and 
Construction. 

Does  not  this  attempt  to  interpret  through  a 
diagram  the  universality  of  a  unique  genius, 
picture  also  the  universaHty  of  the  collective 
genius  of  mankind  in  relation  to  the  individual 
capacities  of  the  human  constituents?  The  Whole- 
ness of  Life  presents  infinite  concentric  circles, 
embracing  efforts  and  ideals  of  all  imaginable 
varieties  and  scopes;  each  measured  by  the  radius 
of  individual  capacity,  while  all  the  diverse  ener- 
gies of  individual  men  and  women  have  their 
center  in  a  common  Inventive  and  Constructive 
Instinct. 

Without  claiming  for  this  diagrammatic  design 
anything  more  than  a  suggestion,  can  we  not  find 
in  it  a  help  toward  realizing  the  Wholeness  of  Life? 
It  is  too  generally  taken  for  granted  that  in- 
dividual human  beings  differ  in  kind;  that  an 
Edison,  for  example,  represents  a  different  order 
of  genius  from  that  of  a  Michelangelo;  that  an 
engineer,  a  musical  composer,  a  captain  of  industry, 
a  sociologist,  a  dry-goods  merchant,  a  philosopher, 


CONSTRUCTIVE  FACULTY         165 

an  educator  and  so  on  and  so  forth  —  that  all 
these,  because  they  are  specialists  must  necessarily 
differ  in  kind  from  one  another,  with  the  result 
that  each  is  apt  to  regard  the  efforts  and  ideals  of 
all  the  others  as  outside  the  practical  scope  of  his 
own.  Thus  specialization,  which  is  a  necessary 
feature  of  our  day,  is  distorted  from  its  highest 
opportunity  of  efficiency.  It  tends  to  a  disin- 
tegration of  Life  and  human  endeavor,  rather  than 
to  a  more  scientific  cooperation  and  artistic  or- 
ganization, which  would  further  the  Wholeness, 
Health  and  Holiness  of  Life. 


Man  is  not  alone  in  having  the  constructive 
faculty;  the  lower  ranks  of  creation  also  represent 
successive  circles  of  widening  scope.  The  squirrel 
and  the  mouse,  for  example,  Hne  the  hollow  which 
they  have  chosen  for  a  nest,  with  soft  and  warm 
material.  The  bird,  however,  actually  builds  its 
nest,  displaying  a  faculty  of  invention  in  the 
selection  and  use  of  the  materials  that  it  employs. 
A  still  higher  order  of  inventiveness  is  shown  by 
the  beaver,  which  not  only  builds  its  hut  on  the 
edge  of  a  stream  but  connects  it  by  timnels  with 
the  water.  Further,  when  the  water  is  not  deep 
enough  for  its  safety,  it  erects  a  dam,  constructed 
of  trees,  which  it  has  felled  with  its  incisor  teeth, 
and  of  sticks,  mud  and  stones;  the  whole  being 
water-tight  and  presenting  a  convex  surface  to  the 


i66  ART  FOR  LIFE'S  SAKE 

direction  of  the  current.  And  the  beaver  gives 
further  evidence  of  invention  when  it  has  been 
much  disturbed  by  hunters,  for  it  will  abandon  its 
usual  method  of  dams  and  hut-building  and  adapt 
itself  to  the  altered  conditions  by  excavating  holes 
in  the  banks  to  serve  as  a  residence.  Moreover, 
beavers  prefer  to  live  in  community  and  cooperate 
in  their  "public  works.''  Then  at  the  top  of  the 
scale  of  inventive  and  constructive  fa,culty  in  the 
animal  world  comes  the  marvelously  purposeful, 
complex  and  adaptable  exercise  of  it,  as  exhibited 
in  the  community  life  of  bees  and  ants. 

But  in  all  these  examples,  typical  of  the  dijfferent 
grades  of  the  inventive-constructive  faculty  in  its 
development  from  a  rudimentary  instinct  to  an 
instinct  increasingly  purposeful,  complex  and 
adapted  to  variabilities  of  environment,  the  motive 
seems  to  be  limited  to  the  perpetuation  of  the 
species,  while  the  tools  used  are  limited  to  the 
creatures'  own  organs.  It  is  here  that  man  parts 
company  with  the  animal  world.  His  inventive- 
constructive  faculty  is  exercised,  not  only  for  the 
purposes  of  making  a  living  and  of  perpetuating 
his  kind,  but  also  in  response  to  the  stimuli  of  his 
sensations,  emotions,  volitions,  intelligence,  intui- 
tions and  imagination.  Further,  under  the  im- 
pulse of  these  needs  and  desires  he  can  make  for 
himself  tools,  modify  the  natural  materials  he 
uses  and  vary  indefinitely  the  form,  scope  and 
character  of  the  thing  he  constructs. 


CONSTRUCTIVE  FACULTY         167 

The  thing  he  has  invented  and  constructed  may 
be  palpable  to  touch  in  every  part,  as,  for  example, 
a  reaping  machine;  or,  while  tangible  and  visible, 
may,  as  in  the  case  of  the  electric  telephone,  in- 
corporate an  "imponderable  and  invisible  agent." 
Again,  as  in  the  case  of  a  picture,  it  may  be  per- 
ceptible to  the  eye  and  yet  involve  more  than 
visible  perception,  having  the  quality  in  itself  of 
causing  the  spectator  to  reconstruct  in  his  own 
imagination  an  impression.  And  the  latter  may 
differ  from  the  constructor's  own  impression  of  his 
picture  and  more  or  less  from  the  impressions 
reconstructed  in  the  imaginations  of  all  other 
spectators.  Or  again,  the  impression,  similarly 
varied,  may  be  derived  from  the  ear  alone,  as  in 
the  case  of  a  musically  trained  audience  listening 
to  a  sonata.  They  are  in  the  first  place  conscious 
of  the  inventive  construction  which  has  built  up 
the  mechanism  of  the  composition,  as  it  establishes 
successively  two  themes,  develops  them  and 
finally  restates  them  in  the  original  keys  with  a 
conclusion.  In  the  few  minutes  or  so  that  the 
performance  lasts,  their  mind's  eye  perceives  the 
fabric  of  sound  grow  to  organized  completion  as 
actually  as  the  optical  eye  can  watch,  over  a  long 
period,  a  building  rise  from  its  plan  to  final 
complete  unity.  Or  again,  a  mathematician  or 
philosopher  wiU  invent  and  construct  a  fabric  of 
organized  thought  which  will  appeal  solely  to  pure 
reason. 


i68  ART  FOR  LIFE'S  SAKE 

But  it  is  needless  to  multiply  illustrations. 
All  mankind's  activities,  whether  physical  or 
mental,  except  such  as  are  purely  destructive, 
involve  the  faculty  of  invention  and  construc- 
tion, and  a  vast  number  stir  to  activity  the  Inven- 
tive-Constructive Faculty  in  others.  They  not 
only  create,  but  also  recreate. 

At  the  foot  of  the  social  scale  a  man  may  dis- 
play his  invention  only  by  discovering  what  there 
is  for  him  to  do,  while  at  the  top  he  imagines  what 
may  be  done  and  discovers  the  means  of  doing  it. 
Low  down  in  the  scale  of  labor,  as  for  instance,  in 
the  case  of  the  scavenger,  it  may  seem  to  be 
straining  the  meaning  of  words  to  describe  his 
work  as  constructional.  But  this  is  due  to  our 
habit  of  disintegrating  life.  We  regard  him  as  a 
single  being,  an  instance  of  specialization.  As  soon 
as  we  correlate  him  with  the  Wholeness  of  Life,  we 
see  him  engaged,  however  himibly,  in  his  share  of 
building  up  the  collective  health,  comfort  and 
convenience  of  the  community.  In  the  aggregate 
of  the  social  structure  the  scavenger  is  necessary 
as  well  as  the  poet  or  the  statesman. 

Meanwhile,  as  the  social  structure  becomes  more 
scientifically  and  artistically  organized,  the  char- 
acter of  labor,  even  in  its  humblest  functions,  will 
be  ameliorated.  For  example,  in  the  case  of 
scavenging,  it  is  only  a  question  of  time  how  soon 
the  pneumatic  cleaner  which  has  been  introduced 
into  the  interior  of  buildings  will  be  found  practical 


CONSTRUCTIVE  FACULTY         169 

for  outside  purposes.  Regarded  solely  as  a  me- 
chanical problem,  we  are  told  that  already  it  has 
been  found  practicable;  but  that  there  are  condi- 
tions which  still  militate  against  its  application; 
some  of  which  are  physical  and  some  human,  that 
is  to  say  affecting  existing  relations  between  man 
and  man.  It  is  not  necessary  for  our  present 
purpose  to  specify  these  objections;  but  rather  to 
suggest  that  this  may  be  one  of  the  innumerable 
instances,  exhibited  during  the  past  hundred  years 
or  so,  of  men  opposing  mechanical  contrivances, 
which  the  wit  of  the  inventor-constructor  has 
devised  for  social  betterment. 

For  machinery  has  not  only  been  opposed  at 
every  step  by  the  man  who  views  it  as  a  rival 
that  will  oust  him  from  his  job,  but  is  still  de- 
preciated by  spiritual  and  artistic  idealists.  They 
profess  to  see  in  it  the  substitution  of  inanimate, 
conscienceless  force  for  the  liberty  of  inventive 
creativeness  and  the  individual's  pride  in  the 
work  of  his  own  hands. 

Yet  there  is  no  possible  getting  around  the  fact 
that,  as  soon  as  individualism  was  liberated  by 
the  American  and  French  Revolutions,  the  most 
immediate  and  signal  use  it  made  of  its  liberty 
was  to  devise  a  myriad  mechanical  contrivances 
for  relieving  itself  of  individual  effort. 

The  profound  distinction,  differentiating  the 
past  century  from  previous  ones,  is  that  it  has 
been  a  scientific  and  mechanical  age.    Its  temples 


I70  ART  FOR  LIFE'S  SAKE 

have  been  laboratories,  the  high  priests  of  which 
are  the  chemist,  biologist,  physiologist,  bacteri- 
ologist and  surgeon;  its  studios  the  workshops 
of  the  engineer,  the  inventor  and  the  machinist. 
The  scientists  have  ministered  to  a  new  religion, 
that  of  the  Wholeness,  the  Holiness,  the  Healthful- 
ness  of  Life;  while  the  mechanicians  have  labored 
to  reduce  the  strain  on  life  and  increase  its  effec- 
tiveness over  nature.  The  achievements  in  both 
departments  have  been  so  rapid  and  marvelous 
that  mankind  has  not  yet  adjusted  itself  to  the 
magnitude  and  splendor  of  the  new  horizon  of 
hope  and  promise,  unfolding  to  its  view.  En- 
franchised from  arbitrary  restrictions,  mental, 
political  and  social,  it  has  reenslaved  itself;  this 
time  to  matter  and  to  the  machinery  of  its  own 
invention.  In  its  preoccupation  with  the  scien- 
tific it  has  grown  blind  to  the  spiritual;  in  its  in- 
fatuation for  the  mechanical  it  has  lost  its  sense 
of  the  artistic. 

The  consequence  is,  that  the  blessings  which 
science  is  bestowing  do  not  flow  freely  through 
the  common  life.  Even  the  Healthfulness  of 
Life  is  less  abundant  than  it  might  be,  while  the 
Holiness  is  but  little  increased.  Both  are  checked 
by  a  mechanicalness  that  devastates  the  Whole- 
ness of  Life.  The  reason  is  that  machinery  is 
viewed  and  treated  too  much  as  a  means  of 
increasing  man's  effectiveness  over  nature;  too 
little  as  a  means  of  reducing  the  strain  upon  his 


CONSTRUCTIVE  FACULTY         171 

life  and  of  liberating  it  for  the  Pursuit  of  Happi- 
ness through  Beauty  of  Living. 

Today  the  employer  of  labor  turns  a  crank 
and  the  electric  current  sets  in  motion  the  hun- 
dred, five  hundred  or  thousand  sewing  machines 
in  his  shop;  and  the  hundred,  five  hundred  or 
thousand  men  and  women,  relieved  from  the 
fatigue  of  producing  the  power  in  their  individual 
machines,  can  operate  with  their  heads  and  hands 
more  freely  and  effectively.  So  far,  so  good. 
But  the  employer  gives  another  turn  to  the  crank. 
As  every  automobilist  has  experienced,  there  is 
such  a  fascination  in  the  sense  of  power  within 
the  control  of  the  hands  that  it  is  hard  to  resist 
the  temptation  to  "let  her  out  a  bit  farther.'* 
Moreover,  in  the  case  of  the  employer  there  is 
the  added  temptation  of  increased  production  and 
increased  profits.  He  gives  another  turn.  More 
power  leaps  forth  and  the  speed  of  the  machines 
is  multiplied.  To  keep  pace  with  it  the  hands  of 
the  workers  must  increase  their  speed,  and  at 
greater  risk  of  being  caught  and  maimed  in  the 
machinery.  In  avoiding  danger  and  accom- 
modating themselves  to  the  speed,  the  tension 
upon  the  brains  of  the  workers  is  unduly  strained. 
The  extra  stress  upon  the  machine  the  employer 
puts  down  to  profit  and  loss;  but  where  is  the 
profit  and  who  counts  the  loss  in  the  case  of  the 
men  and  the  women  who  thereby  have  been 
reduced  to  human  machines?    They  are  turned 


172  ART  FOR  LIFE'S  SAKE 

off  in  the  evening  when  the  power  is  turned  off 
and  turn  up  in  the  morning  when  the  power  is 
turned  on.  But  what  of  the  interval:  the  only 
part  of  their  lives  which  they  can  call  their  own? 
For  the  rest  of  their  Life  is  the  price  they  pay  for 
Living. 

It  is  dijB&cult  to  see  how  that  interval  can  be 
spent  in  the  Healthful  Pursuit  of  Happiness. 
Either  the  sensibility  of  the  workers  is  blunted 
by  the  prolonged  strain,  so  that  a  stupor  of 
fatigue  oppresses  them;  or  it  is  stimulated  to  a 
nervous  intensity  which  only  the  sensational  can 
appease.  They  must  devour  the  most  sensational 
papers  or  walk  the  streets  in  a  hunger  for  sensa- 
tion. Moreover,  the  evil  does  not  stop  with  these 
men  and  women.  They  are  the  future  fathers 
and  mothers  of  the  race.  What  sort  of  breed  of 
bodily  stunted  and  mentally  abnormal  children 
is  in  actual  everyday  process  of  being  produced? 

This  illustration  is  typical  of  one  aspect  of  our 
mechanical  age.  There  is  another.  It  is  typi- 
fied in  what  you  may  witness  in  a  visit  to  one 
of  the  steel-rolling  mills.  Here,  if  anywhere, 
is  to  be  witnessed  the  triumph  of  invention  over 
brute  force,  of  mind,  embodied  in  constructional 
mechanics,  over  matter.  The  operations  are  of 
Titanic  proportions,  yet  the  processes,  to  the 
uninitiated,  seem  so  simple  that  a  child  might 
work  them.  Indeed,  the  marvel  is,  that  the 
material,  after  it  has  been  started  on  its  way, 


CONSTRUCTIVE  FACULTY         173 

appears  to  be  pursuing  its  own  development; 
issuing  from  the  mill,  red-hot  and  eager,  pushing 
forward  with  steady,  stealing  movement;  then 
halting  and  returning  in  its  tracks  to  reenter  the 
mill,  again  to  issue  forth,  more  tempered,  to  reach 
a  still  further  goal  of  purpose.  You  watch  the  pro- 
cess and  it  needs  almost  an  effort  of  imagination 
to  realize  that  somewhere  at  the  back  of  it  man  is 
actually  regulating  every  stage  of  the  proceedings. 
Or  again,  you  may  witness,  as  I  did  on  one 
occasion,  the  demoUshing  of  the  used-up  fire-clay 
lining  of  a  furnace.  It  was  still  livid  with  heat. 
Nearly  two  days  would  have  been  necessary  for 
cooling  before  it  could  have  been  entered  by  men. 
But  there  approaches  down  the  length  of  the  lofty 
shed  a  traveling  crane,  suspended  from  the  roof 
so  that  it  seems  to  be  riding  in  the  air.  It  halts 
before  the  furnace  and  thrusts  into  it  a  long 
neck,  terminating  in  a  beak,  with  which  it  batters 
and  pecks  at  the  red-hot  lining.  This  way  and 
that  over  the  surface  and  into  the  corners  moves 
the  craning  neck,  and  every  thrust  of  its  beak 
is  followed  by  the  crash  and  roar  of  crumbHng 
flakes  of  fire  clay.  Meanwhile,  high  up  in  the 
cool  of  the  shed,  free  from  the  lung-choking  dust, 
sits  a  man,  controlling  the  monster's  strength  and 
directing  its  efforts  with  a  few  levers.  If  this 
man,  outside  his  hours  of  labor,  fails  in  the  Pur- 
suit of  Happiness,  it  would  seem  as  if  the  blame 
could  not  be  laid  to  machinery.    Yet  there  are 


174  ART  FOR  LIFE'S  SAKE 

people  who  still  decry  this  mechanical  age; 
and  others,  again,  who  employ  the  miracles  of 
machinery  not  for  the  healing  but  the  enslaving 
of  their  fellow-beings. 

It  seems  to  be  lack  of  imagination  that  causes 
people  to  decry  machinery.  They  see  it  only  as 
inanimate  matter;  they  have  not  the  imagination 
to  reaHze  that  some  of  the  spirit  of  man  has  been 
already  breathed  into  it  and  more  will  be;  that 
the  machine  is  to  become  to  man  his  alter  ego, 
his  second  self,  more  and  more  to  liberate  his 
first  seK  from  the  bondage  of  his  needs  and  to 
leave  him  freer  and  freer  to  cultivate  the  desires 
of  the  spirit.  Imagination  must  be  fostered  in 
the  young.  They  have  it  at  the  start;  but  it  is 
flattened  out  of  them  by  the  steam-roller  of  our 
systematised,  rather  than  organized,  methods  of 
education.  The  great  need  of  our  time  is  more 
imagination;  I  mean,  spiritual  imagination.  For 
there  has  been  no  lack  of  imagination;  during 
the  past  century  there  has  been  imagination  more 
abundant  than  ever  before,  but  it  has  been  ex- 
pended chiefly  on  mechanics  and  science,  until 
the  imagination  even  of  those  who  are  not  scien- 
tists or  inventors  has  become  mechanical  and 
limited  to  material  issues.  Through  our  children 
must  be  restored  to  mankind  the  spiritual  imagina- 
tion with  its  vision  of  Beauty  of  Life  and  Living. 


CHAPTER   XXI 

TEE  RECONCILIATION  OF  ART 
AND   MACHINERY 

THE  protest  against  the  mechanicalness 
of  the  age  is  also  founded  upon,  so- 
called,  artistic  considerations.  Machin- 
ery and  factories,  conducted  upon  commercial 
lines,  it  is  contended,  have  almost  entirely 
superseded  the  individual  artist's  working  in 
the  joy  and  pride  of  his  handiwork  and  in  the 
pursuit  of  Beauty  rather  than  of  profit.  The 
craftsman's  products  were  stamped  with  his 
own  personality;  they  grew  under  his  hand  in 
response  to  the  lively  creativeness  of  his  brain. 
Even  if  the  general  design  were  repeated,  the 
feeling  and  expression  had  the  variety  of  separate, 
creative  acts.  As  compared  with  this,  the  ma- 
chine-made articles  are  multiplied  with  Hfeless 
uniformity;  their  expression  is  not  of  liberty  of 
creative  invention  but  the  monotonous  uni- 
formity of  an  inanimate,  soulless  machine.  Such 
production,  while  itself  inferior  in  artistic  quali- 
ties, also  robs  the  workman  of  his  privilege  as 
an  artist  and  condemns  him  to  the  "damnable 
iteration"  of  mechanical  toil. 


176  ART  FOR  LIFE'S  SAKE 

This  is  the  pith  of  the  criticism  leveled  against 
machinery  in  connection  with  the  production  of 
articles  which  permit  of  beauty  of  design.  You 
will  observe  that  I  have  not  included  the  inferior- 
ity of  design  represented  in  machine-made  goods. 
This  used  to  be  advanced  as  an  objection;  but 
improved  knowledge  and  taste  on  the  part  of 
manufacturers  and  the  public  have  already  led 
to  an  improvement  in  the  qualities  of  design, 
and  there  is  no  inherent  reason  why  the  advance 
shall  not  be  continued.  Unquestionably  it  will 
be,  until  the  finest  available  designers  will  be 
employed  to  direct  their  production.  Nor  is  it 
to  be  forgotten  that  not  every  craftsman,  because 
he  takes  a  pride  and  joy  in  his  work,  is  necessarily 
a  good  designer.  By  no  means  all  are  Benvenuto 
Cellinis,  nor  was  Cellini  always  as  good  as  himself. 
There  have  been,  and  still  are,  among  individual 
craftsmen  exceedingly  poor  designers,  and  much 
modern  Arts  and  Crafts  work  is  unquestionably 
inferior  in  design  and  not  seldom  inferior  in  crafts- 
manship to  the  output  of  the  factories.  For, 
after  all,  perhaps,  it  is  less  a  question  of  system 
than  of  men.  And  it  is  here  that  we  may  detect 
a  possible  solving  of  the  problem. 

For  even  in  the  "good  old  days"  a  master- 
craftsman  maintained  a  workship  and  assistants, 
who  reUeved  him  of  the  more  mechanical  parts 
of  the  labor  and  were  in  turn  inspired  by  him  to 
higher  standards  of  achievement.    Such  a  system 


ART  AND  MACHINERY  177 

of  mutual  helpfulness  practically  existed  between 
the  late  John  La  Farge  and  the  firm  which  trans- 
lated into  glass  the  master-artist's  designs  for 
decorated  windows.  He  had  worked  with  the 
same  men  so  continually  and  intimately,  that  he 
had  imbued  them  with  a  sensibility  of  feeling 
which  enabled  them  to  interpret  with  extraordi- 
nary sympathy  and  understanding  the  subtleties 
of  his  designs. 

Here,  surely,  is  the  clue  to  the  future  of  the 
artistic  handicrafts.  It  leads  to  some  such  sys- 
tem as  the  following.  An  artist,  for  example,  in 
jewelry,  such  a  one  as  the  great  Lalique  in  Paris, 
will  continue  to  work  in  his  own  studio  upon  his 
own  designs.  But  during  a  part  of  his  time  he 
will  be  employed  as  the  master-artist  at  the  head 
of  a  jewelry  workshop.  He  will  have  in  the 
designing  room  a  staff  of  assistant  designers, 
eager  for  the  privilege  of  working  under  his 
guidance  and  inspiration.  He  will  walk  in  the 
workshops  and  mingle  intimately  with  the  crafts- 
men, helping  them  with  criticism  and  encourage- 
ment; also  training  the  assistant  designers  to  be 
similarly  helpful.  As  far  as  possible  —  and  who 
knows  how  far  that  will  be?  —  much  farther 
than  today  we  dream  of  —  the  limitations  es- 
tabHshed  by  machinery  will  be  counteracted. 
Machinery  will  do  the  purely  mechanical  part, 
but  it  will  not  enslave  the  liberty  of  the  crafts- 
man's spirit.     Some  means  wiU  be  discovered  to 


178  ART  FOR  LIFE'S  SAKE 

make  machinery  a  more  tractable  and  less  exact- 
ing servant.  Meanwhile  the  factory  will  be  per- 
vaded with  a  new  atmosphere  of  comradeship  in 
the  Pursuit  of  Beauty  and  perfect  craftsmanship. 
From  the  employers  and  master-artist  downward 
all  will  work  in  love  of  their  craft  and  with  a  com- 
mon pride  in  the  product  of  their  united  labors. 
It  is  only  in  some  such  direction  as  this  that 
the  future  of  the  handicrafts  holds  any  promise 
of  advancement.  For  machines  and  the  factory 
output  will  continue  to  be  facts  which  have  to  be 
reckoned  with.  They  are  here  to  stay;  essential 
elements  in  the  modern  progress  toward  collective 
social  organization.  It  is  no  use  regretting  or 
ignoring  them.  We  must  accept  them  and  dis- 
cover the  means  to  correct  their  crudeness  and 
compel  them  into  the  service  of  Beauty;  Beauty 
in  the  thing  made  and  Beauty  in  the  Hves  of  the 
workers.  The  enthusiasts  who  are  trying  to 
stimulate  the  handicrafts  by  extolling  the  indi- 
vidual craftsman  at  the  expense  of  what  they 
call  contemptuously  the  "commercial  system" 
and  are  booming  a  good  deal  of  individual  work, 
fully  as  crude  and  inefficient  in  the  way  of  Beauty, 
are  simply  attempting  to  stay  the  on-moving 
ocean  tide  with  a  mop.  Moreover,  they  are  main- 
taining one  of  the  artificial  barriers  which  interfere 
with  the  Wholeness  of  Life.  For  this  distinction 
assumes  an  inevitable  antagonism  between  what 
is  "commercial"  and  what  is  "artistic." 


ART  AND  MACHINERY  179 

There  may  be  some  artists  who  are  absolutely 
indifferent  to  commercial  considerations,  as  there 
certainly  are  some  commercial  people  who  are 
indifferent  to  considerations  of  art.  But  most 
artists  are  properly  conscious  of  being,  like 
other  workmen,  worthy  of  their  hire,  and  need 
and  enjoy  the  money-profits  of  their  art.  On 
the  other  hand,  most  commercial  people  not  only 
realize  the  need  of  enhancing  the  value  of  their 
commodities  by  artistic  means  but  also  take  a 
pride  in  doing  so.  What  stands  in  their  way  is 
really  the  ignorance  of  a  very  large  part  of  the 
public  as  to  what  is  beautiful.  It  is  in  training 
the  public,  especially  the  yornig  people,  to 
desire  and  appreciate  Beauty  and  to  demand 
the  evidence  of  it  in  every  department  of  hfe,  ^ 
and  also  in  cooperating  with  employers  to  secure 
more  Beauty  in  their  factories  and  products  and 
in  the  Lives  of  the  workers,  that  our  enthusiasm 
would  be  better  expended. 

In  a  word,  while  firm  in  the  belief  that  the 
world  must  continue  to  need  great  individual 
artists,  let  us  recognize  that  the  bulk  of  the  world's 
work  must  be  done  through  the  medium  of 
machinery  and  factories  and  accordingly  con- 
centrate our  enthusiasm  on  organizing  to  higher 
efl&ciency  the  capabilities  inherent  in  these  col- 
lective processes  of  adding  to  the  Beauty  and 
Happiness  of  Life. 

This  vision  of  the  factory,  inspired  by  the 


i8o  ART  FOR  LIFE'S  SAKE 

master-artist,  is  permeated  with  the  spirit  of 
comradeship,  cemented  in  love  of  the  craft  and 
pride  in  the  product.  It  is  only  so  that  liberty 
can  be  regained  by  the  worker  and  that  his 
enslavement  to  the  machine  can  be  averted. 
For  machinery  and  the  factory  involve  of  necessity 
a  division  of  labor.  No  man  can  take  the  full 
joy  and  pride  in  doing  his  particular  stunt  of 
work,  as  does  the  worker  who  sees  and  feels  the 
product  grow  from  start  to  finish  under  his  own 
hand.  If  the  worker  in  the  collective  organiza- 
tion is  to  be  able  to  recover  this  joy  and  pride 
of  craftsmanship,  it  must  be  in  himself  as  part 
of  a  common  Whole,  in  the  joy  of  cooperation 
and  the  pride  of  Collective  Effort.  It  is  the  joy 
and  pride  of  the  Grand  Army  man:  aroused, 
however,  not  by  comradeship  in  the  arts  of  war 
but  by  comradeship  in  the  arts  of  peace.  It  is 
possible  and  it  must  come;  for  organization  of 
All  in  the  Whole  represents  the  spirit  of  the  age 
and  the  spirit  must  be  informed  with  pride  and 
devotion  to  the  common  cause. 

When  this  ideal  becomes  a  living  motive  of 
work,  the  mechanicalness  of  the  age  will  gradually 
lose  such  ruthlessness  and  crudity  as  it  now  in- 
volves. Machinery  will  become  a  miraculous  tool 
in  man's  hand  to  complete  his  Scientific- Artistic 
Organization  of  Life;  a  means,  not  only  of  in- 
creased efficiency,  but  also  of  lightening  the  burden 
of  labor  and  of  giving  to  the  individual  a  larger 


ART  AND  MACHINERY  i8i 

share  of  his  Life  for  the  Pursuit  of  Beautiful  and 
Happy  living. 

*         *         *         *         ♦         *         * 

Everyone  knows,  but  many  overlook  the 
significance  of  the  fact,  that  machinery  has  not 
only  taken  possession  of  the  domain  of  material 
production,  but  has  also  invaded  what  used  to 
be  regarded  as  the  sacred  inclosure  of  the  arts. 
We  have  grown  so  accustomed  to  the  power- 
press  that  we  overlook  its  influence  upon  not 
only  the  quantity  but  the  character  of  literature. 
In  our  familiarity  with  the  photograph  we  are 
apt  to  lose  sight  of  its  effect  upon  painting. 
Similarly,  we  may  have  ignored  the  import  of 
the  mechanical  player  and  gramophone  in  re- 
lation to  music  and  of  the  moving-picture  show 
to  the  drama.  We  accept  the  facts  of  these 
things  and  are  blind  to  their  significance. 

They  are  evidences,  if  any  were  needed,  that 
machinery  is  a  corollary  of  Democracy.  That, 
as  society  becomes  more  scientifically  and  artis- 
tically organized,  so  must  be  organized  also  all 
the  processes  by  which  its  needs  and  desires  are 
satisfied.  That  the  multiplication  of  those  who 
demand  to  have  their  needs  and  desires  satisfied 
necessitates  a  multiplication  of  the  means. 
That  human  hands  can  no  longer  suffice  to  sup- 
ply the  demand,  and  that  the  very  extension  to 
the  many  of  the  privileges,  once  enjoyed  only 
by  the  few,  renders  machinery  not  only  a  neces- 


i82  ART  FOR  LIFE'S  SAKE 

sity  but  a  blessing  to  Democracy.  Possibly, 
indeed,  it  is  not  overstating  the  case  to  assert 
that  machinery  is  the  greatest  triumph  yet 
achieved  by  Democracy.  That  when  the  latter 
has  organized  the  human  relations  to  the  same 
degree  of  efficiency  that  it  has  organized  the 
mechanical  components  of  a  machine,  it  will 
verily  have  attained  to  its  ideal  of  Life,  Liberty 
and  the  Pursuit  of  Happiness. 

Nor  will  this  involve  a  suppression  of  what 
is  finest  and  most  valuable  in  the  individual. 
There  will  only  be  the  greater,  because  more 
widely  demanded  and  more  fully  appreciated, 
need  of  the  great  inventor,  constructor,  organ- 
izer, artist.  The  gramophone  will  demand  more 
than  ever  the  services  of  the  great  singer;  the 
mechanical  player,  of  the  great  interpreter  of 
music;  the  moving-picture  show,  those  of  the 
most  elevating  and  compelling  actors.  What 
these  artists  will  lose  by  not  being  in  direct 
touch  with  their  audience  they  will  more  than 
gain  in  the  consciousness  of  the  vaster  audience 
they  appeal  to.  They  too,  like  the  workers  in 
the  factories,  will  learn  to  find  their  highest  joy 
and  pride  in  being  a  vital  part  of  the  immense 
collective  Whole.  They  will  win  a  greater  reward 
in  the  universality  of  their  influence,  and  will 
have  the  greater  incitement  to  the  highest  kind 
of  ambition.  It  will  lead  eventually,  not  to  the 
degradation  but  to  the  further  uplifting  of  Art. 


ART  AND  MACHINERY  183 

For  note  what  has  happened  in  the  case  of 
painting.  There  was  a  time  when  painters  en- 
joyed a  monopoly  of  the  art  of  picture-making. 
Then,  about  the  time  that  the  invention  of 
raised  type  and  the  printing  press  made  it  possible 
to  multiply  books,  there  arose  the  etcher  and 
engraver,  who  multiplied  their  pictures  at  com- 
paratively small  cost;  either  their  own  original 
pictures  or  copies  of  those  of  others.  Some  three 
hundred  and  fifty  years  later,  namely,  in  1796, 
Senefelder  developed  the  multiplying  process  of 
lithography.  Finally,  in  1839,  Baguerre  intro- 
duced his  process  of  photography. 

Now,  the  latter  differs  from  the  previous 
multiplying  processes  in  several  particulars.  The 
engraver,  etcher  and  lithographer  can  draw 
either  from  the  model  or  "out  of  their  own 
heads,"  and,  if  they  use  a  model,  can  include  as 
much  or  as  little  of  it  as  they  choose  and  alter 
its  shape  and  expression  and  character  as  they 
will.  But  the  photographer  is  much  more  de- 
pendent on  his  model.  He,  too,  by  his  manage- 
ment of  the  hght  and  by  his  skill  and  art  in  all 
the  processes  of  making  a  negative,  developing 
and  printing,  can  exercise  selection  and  eliminate 
and  modify  the  expression  of  the  model;  so 
that  the  result  is  not  a  mere  mechanical  record 
but  actually  a  picture,  characterized  by  the 
qualities  of  tone  and  light  and  shade,  by  Fitness, 
Balance,  Unity,  Harmony  and  Rhythm.    Within 


i84  ART  FOR  LIFE'S  SAKE 

its  range  a  photograph  can  be  a  work  of  art. 
Meanwhile,  although  it  can  now  reproduce  color 
and  the  actual  movement  of  life,  it  is  still,  in  the 
final  analysis,  dependent  on  the  original  model. 
It  cannot  do  without  the  latter  and  can  only 
deviate  a  little  from  the  actual  appearance.  It 
can  modify  but  not  use  it  freely  in  response  to 
that  high  faculty  of  the  human  mind  —  the 
creative  imagination. 

Hence  photography  is  beginning  to  react  on 
painting  to  the  latter's  betterment.  It  is  begin- 
ning to  be  realized  by  painters  that  in  their 
pursuit  of  the  naturalistic  and  impressionistic 
motives,  they  have  been  voluntarily  accepting 
the  rivalry  of  the  photograph.  That  those 
motives,  since  they  rely  on  the  actual  appear- 
ance of  the  model,  are  in  essential  fact  photo- 
graphic. Meanwhile  they  have  neglected  too  long 
the  imaginative-creative  motive  and  it  is  to  this 
that  the  most  modern  painters  are  returning. 

In  a  word,  this  is  only  another  instance  of  the 
fact  that  ultimately  art  which  is  produced  by 
mechanical  aid  will  not  exterminate  but  inspire 
to  higher  purpose  the  individual  artist.  For 
Samson's  riddle  is  still  the  riddle  of  life:  "Out 
of  the  eater  came  forth  meat  and  out  of  the 
strong  came  forth  sweetness." 

But,  to  this  end,  the  need  of  Art  is  more 
spiritual  imagination  in  the  Artist. 


CHAPTER  XXII 
FITNESS 

IT  used  to  be  said  of  an  American  artist,  now 
deceased,  that  he  had  a  great  deal  of  taste, 
some  of  it  good.  His  art  might  have  been 
described  as  the  art  of  selling  old  lamps  for  new. 
For  he  was  an  architect  and,  whether  the  problem 
that  confronted  him  was  that  of  a  Hbrary  or  a 
private  residence,  a  store,  railroad  station  or  office 
building,  he  would  base  its  design  on  one  or 
more  examples  of  Greek,  Roman  or  Italian  Re- 
naissance architecture.  In  fact,  the  inventive- 
constructive  faculty  in  him  had  been  reduced 
to  an  ingenious  plagiarism,  which  sometimes 
resulted  in  a  building^/  for  its  modem  purpose  — 
wherein  he  demonstrated  his  "good"  taste  —  and 
sometimes  did  not. 

Of  one  of  his  examples  of  unfitness  a  story  is 
told  which  has  the  earmarks  of  being  true.  He 
had  prepared  a  design  for  a  college  Hbrary  and 
showed  it  to  his  partner.  The  latter  being  also 
an  architectural  resurrectionist,  was  deHghted 
with  this  piecemeal  adaptation  of  sundry  temple 
designs.  He  turned  to  his  colleague  and  was 
surprised  to  see  his  face  clouded  with  indecision. 


i86  ART  FOR  LIFE'S  SAKE 

"What's  the  matter?"  he  exclaimed,  "don't  you 
like  your  design?"  "Oh!  the  design  is  all  right," 
was  the  reply,  "but  I  don't  see  where  they  are  to 
put  the  blamed  books!" 

The  library  stands  today,  a  signal  example  of  a 
beautiful  building  that  lacks  the  first  element  of 
true  Beauty,  namely.  Fitness,  as  "they,"  to  wit, 
the  librarian  and  his  staff,  who  are  still  wondering 
where  to  put  the  books,  can  attest. 

Another  example  of  architectural  unfitness  is 
presented  by  one  of  the  small  parks  in  a  crowded 
section  of  New  York.  The  site  was  originally  a 
disused  cemetery  which  the  City  had  been  in- 
duced by  the  newly  founded  Playground  Associa- 
tion to  convert  into  a  place  of  recreation  for  the 
people.  The  commission  was  given  to  a  well- 
known  firm  of  architects. 

Consider  for  a  moment  the  nature  of  the  prob- 
lem. It  was  a  twofold  one:  firstly,  to  provide  a 
place  of  rest  for  adults  and  of  play  for  the  children; 
secondly,  to  do  it  in  such  a  way  that  the  value  of 
these  breathing  spots  in  a  congested  neighborhood 
might  be  clearly  demonstrated.  For,  at  the  time, 
the  movement,  started  by  private  citizens  for 
playgrounds  and  small  parks,  was  a  new  one  and 
needed  to  commend  itself  to  the  intelligence  and 
support  of  the  public  at  large. 

But  these  practical  considerations  apparently 
did  not  enter  into  the  viewpoint  of  the  selected 
architects.    For  they,  too,  were  resurrectionists, 


FITNESS  187 

engaged  in  the  business  of  architectural  body- 
snatching.  Grimly  appropriate,  you  may  say, 
since  they  were  operating  on  a  graveyard! 
However,  it  was  from  graveyards  as  far  distant 
as  Italy  in  the  period  of  aristocratic  preeminence; 
to  be  precise,  from  the  model  of  the  gardens  of 
princely  villas  of  the  Renaissance,  that  these  men 
took  their  motive  for  a  playground  in  one  of  the 
poorest  parts  of  our  modem  democratic  city. 

"Per  Bacco!"  one  can  fancy  them  exclaiming, 
"here  is  a  chance  to  erect  a  Belvidere,  from  the 
base  of  which  water  shall  spout  into  an  ornamental 
basin,  surrounded  by  a  path  for  stately  prome- 
naders;  the  sides  to  be  enclosed  by  beveled  walls 
of  turf,  terminating  in  an  upper  promenade  for 
fair  dames  and  gallant  gentlemen!"  So  they  dis- 
turbed the  long  repose  of  bygone  citizens  by 
excavating  a  huge  and  deep  hole  that  occupied 
some  two- thirds  of  the  available  area;  laid  their 
paths  in  cement  and,  regardless  of  considerations 
of  grass-mowing,  constructed  the  steep  slopes  and 
completed  the  artistic  (?)  character  of  the  design 
with  a  balustraded  terrace,  surmounted  by  a 
little  classic  device  of  a  dome,  standing  on  col- 
immed  legs.  Then  they  rested  from  their  labors, 
happy  in  the  conviction  that  they  had  promoted 
the  cause  of  civilization  and  of  art  in  that  be- 
nighted neighborhood. 

They  had,  however,  omitted  to  plant  trees  or 
provide  a  particle  of  shade  except  the  patch  which 


i88  ART  FOR  LIFERS  SAKE 

traveled  round  the  classic  dome.  So  when  the 
tired  mothers  came  out  of  the  tenements,  they 
had  to  sit  in  the  sun  with  their  feet  on  the  sun- 
baked pavements,  where  alone  was  playroom  for 
the  children.  And,  as  they  sat  and  stewed  in 
the  heat,  ever  and  anon  the  air  would  be  riven  with 
a  tiny  cry,  echoed  by  the  scream  of  a  mother,  as 
she  saw  her  babe  rolling  down  the  slope  and 
heading  for  the  water  basin.  But  for  the  Irish 
policeman,  detailed  to  keep  watch  over  this 
Italian  incongruity,  who  shall  say  how  the  rate 
of  infant  mortality  would  have  been  increased? 
As  it  was,  the  babies  had  committed  a  technical 
violation  of  the  ordinances  by  trespassing  on  the 
grass. 

So  the  blessings  of  classic  civilization  and  of 
art  made  small  progress  among  the  mothers  and 
failed  to  commend  itself  to  the  intelligence  of  the 
Playground  Association.  The  "artistic''  layout 
was  discovered  to  be  quite  unfit  for  its  purpose. 
Accordingly  when  an  addition  was  made  to  the 
park,  the  architects  were  left  severely  alone,  a 
large  flat  place  was  cleared  and  swings  were  set 
up  and  sliding  boards,  so  that  the  Uttle  ones  could 
make  merry,  while  their  mothers  rested,  and  the 
City  be  freed  from  the  charge  of  being  accessory 
to  infanticide.  Lately,  when  I  visited  the  Park, 
this  end  of  it  resoimded  with  happiness;  while 
the  other  was  abandoned  to  its  aristocratic 
Unfitness  for  our  democratic  requirements. 


FITNESS  189 

When  artists  themselves  can  be  so  foolishly 
indifferent  to  the  claims  of  Fitness  in  design,  it  is 
not  surprising  that  a  practical  pubHc  is  disposed 
to  be  suspicious  of  Art.  Nor  does  the  plagiarism 
stop  short  with  the  architects.  It  extends  to  the 
painters.  Called  upon  to  decorate  the  "Classic" 
buildings  with  mural  paintings,  they  have  been 
taught  by  the  architects  that  their  work  must  be 
in  "subordinate  harmony"  with  the  architectural 
structure.  Since  the  latter  has  been  pieced  to- 
gether with  details  borrowed  from  ItaHan  Renais- 
sance designs,  the  paintings  must  exhibit  their 
imitation  of  the  same  motive. 

Sometimes  the  painter  has  been  sent  to  Italy 
to  copy  directly  and  slavishly  a  ceiHng  or  the 
interior  of  a  chamber.  More  frequently  he  is 
required  to  work  "in  the  style"  of  ItaHan  art. 
Accordingly,  in  most  cases,  he  takes  Raphael  for 
his  model  and  tries  to  imitate  not  the  spirit  but 
the  manner  of  that  great  decorator.  For  Raphael 
belonged  to  the  spirit  of  his  own  time.  That 
spirit,  on  the  one  hand,  was  impregnated  with 
the  newly  acquired  Greek  culture  and,  on  the 
other,  was  accustomed  in  its  dramatic  representa- 
tions to  the  elaborate  mise-en-scenes  of  masques 
and  the  abstraction  of  allegory.  These  Raphael 
made  the  models  for  the  designs  of  his  decorations 
in  the  Stanze  or  ceremonial  chambers  of  the 
Vatican.  They  are  the  superb  reflection  of  an 
age  of  splendid  aristocratic  Ufe  and  still  remain 


I90  ART  FOR  LIFE'S  SAKE 

profoundly  interesting,  because  they  embody  the 
religion,  culture  and  psychology  of  their  own  day. 

If  our  painters  wish  to  emulate  the  greatness 
of  a  Raphael,  they  should  work  in  a  like  spirit, 
as  interpreters  and  exponents  of  the  ideals  of  our 
modem  Democracy.  If  they  did  so,  they  would 
discover  for  themselves  a  manner  in  which  to 
fitly  represent  them.  But  to  copy  only  the 
manner  of  Raphael  is  to  attempt  to  construct 
something  Hve  out  of  dead  bones.  Yet  this  is 
what  a  great  deal  of  our  mural  decoration  repre- 
sents. The  painter  introduces  Classical  allusions 
which  are  gibberish  to  the  vast  majority  of  our 
citizens,  or  allegorical  suggestions  which  are 
equally  remote  from  the  modern  consciousness. 
Raphael  represented,  for  example,  the  idea  of 
Jurisprudence  as  composed  of  three  elementary 
ideas:  Truth,  Moderation  and  Firmness.  These 
were  embodied  allegorically  in  draped  female 
figures,  holding,  respectively,  a  mirror,  a  bridle 
and  an  oak  branch.  This  was  intelligible  to  the 
men  of  his  generation,  and  is  so  to  us,  if  we  put 
ourselves  inside  the  thought  of  that  day. 

But  it  is  not  the  habit  of  thought  of  our  own 
day.  We  think  in  the  concrete  rather  than  in 
abstractions.  If  you  wish  to  bring  an  idea  home 
to  the  consciousness  of  people,  you  must  invest  it 
with  concrete  significance.  A  lady  draped  in 
cheesecloth,  holding  a  toy  steamship,  will  not 
convey  to  the  modem  imagination  the  complexity 


FITNESS 


191 


and  magnitude  of  the  idea  involved  in  "Com- 
merce." Nor,  if  you  substitute  a  toy  building 
for  the  steamship,  are  we  adequately  impressed 
with  the  significance  of  "Architecture'';  while 
the  same  lady  holding  a  retort,  fails  to  suggest 
the  miracles  and  the  blessings  of  "Science." 
Certainly  we  need  to  have  the  virtue  of  "Truth" 
enforced  in  our  day;  but  are  not  likely  to  be 
inspired  thereto  by  a  naked  lady  staring  at  a 
mirror;  the  more  so  that,  if  the  Artist  gives  her  a 
self-satisfied  smile,  we  are  asked  to  recognize  her 
as  "Vanity."  Nor  will  the  painting  of  a  lady, 
distinguished  by  a  bandaged  eye,  a  sword,  and  a 
scale,  thrill  us  with  a  sense  of  the  Need  and 
Beauty  of  "Justice." 

Yet  this  is  what  is  being  done  by  too  many  of 
our  painters.  While  they  should  be  fitting  new 
forms  to  our  new  habits  of  consciousness,  com- 
mensurate with  our  democratic  ideals  and  prog- 
ress, they  are  using  old  forms  which  do  not  fit 
the  modem  needs.  For  our  life  and  aspirations 
are  too  real  to  be  expressed  by  cheesecloth  and 
allegorical  junk. 

It  was  a  banker  of  the  Middle  West,  himself 
a  lover  of  the  arts,  who  characterized  the  whole 
of  this  stuff  as  "Purity  handing  a  pianola  to 
Agriculture!" 


CHAPTER   XXin 

FITNESS  IN  OUR   PUBLIC  BUILDINGS 

IN  the  earlier  days  of  our  Republic,  when  there 
were  practically  no  art  traditions  and  the  few 
schools  of  art  were  inadequate,  it  was  neces- 
sary for  our  artists  to  derive  their  inspiration  and 
instruction  from  the  Old  World.  It  is  still  neces- 
sary that  they  travel  abroad  and  acquaint  them- 
selves with  the  masterpieces  of  the  past.  But  it 
should  be  for  their  general  culture,  to  enlarge 
their  vision  and  their  comprehension  of  the  possi- 
bilities of  Art,  even  as  a  wide  and  thorough  knowl- 
edge of  history  is  useful  to  a  statesman  in  his 
grappHng  with  the  problems  of  the  present.  A 
statesman,  however,  does  not  imitate  the  manner 
and  form  of  the  past,  since  he  knows  them  to 
have  been  associated  with  conditions  and  ideals 
that  differ  from  those  of  today.  But  he  learns 
to  distinguish  in  the  past  such  institutions  and 
laws  as  were  the  products  of  perennial  conditions 
and  ideals  and  such  as  were  the  reflection  of 
accidental  or  temporary  conditions  or  the  mere 
hasty  response  to  ideals  not  yet  sufficiently 
reaHzed.  He  thereby  gets  a  grip  on  fundamental 
principles  which  he  can  apply  to  the  new  require- 


OUR  PUBLIC  BUILDINGS  193 

ments  of  his  own  age.    And  such  should  be  the 
artist's  attitude. 

But,  until  recently,  this  has  not  been  the  atti- 
tude of  our  artists;  notably  of  the  architects, 
whose  art,  being  largely  a  product  of  necessity, 
always  takes  the  lead  in  the  Fine  Arts.  For  a 
time  our  leading  architects  were  graduates  of  the 
Ecole  des  Beaux  Arts  in  Paris.  They  brought  back, 
on  the  one  hand,  a  refined  taste  and  a  knowledge 
of  the  science  of  organizing  the  plan  of  a  build- 
ing; spreading,  in  consequence,  an  improved  taste 
throughout  the  community  and  gradually  dis- 
persing the  common  notion  that  architecture  is 
only  building.  On  the  other  hand,  they  brought 
back  the  fixed  idea  that  the  only  architecture 
which  amounted  to  anything  is  that  which  em- 
bodies the  Classic,  that  is  to  say,  the  Greek  or 
Roman  styles,  or  that  of  the  Italian  Renaissance. 
Their  only  recipe  for  big  buildings  has  been:  Set 
up  columns  in  a  row;  place  a  cornice  upon  them 
and  surmount  with  a  pediment;  then,  if  the 
appropriation  runs  to  it,  top  off  the  whole  with  a 
dome.  For  smaller  buildings  the  recipe  has 
been:  Use  columns  and  pediments,  not  as  part 
of  the  construction,  but  applied  to  the  surface  as 
ornament,  and  crown  with  cornice.  For  sug- 
gestion as  to  the  whole  design  and  information  as 
to  details  consult  the  measured  drawings  and  pho- 
tographs of  heathen  temples,  or  St.  Peter's,  St. 
John  Lateran,  or  Roman,  Florentine,  Venetian 


194  ART  FOR  LIFERS  SAKE 

palaces  ad  lib.  Meanwhile,  see  to  it  that  your 
craftsmen  express  no  feeling  of  their  own,  but 
copy  exactly  the  copy  that  you  have  made  of  the 
antique  original. 

These  architects,  in  fact,  after  divesting  them- 
selves of  all  creative  individuality,  have  prevented 
the  growth  of  creative  ability  in  the  craftsman, 
not  excepting,  in  many  instances,  the  mural  deco- 
rator and  the  sculptor.  Their  borrowed  and  imita- 
tive "art"  is  in  itself  and  in  its  influence  upon  the 
craftsman  a  direct  contradiction  of  the  genius  of 
the  coimtry,  for  this  is  exhibiting  itself  in  a  growth 
of  creative  individuality  that  is  phenomenal. 

However,  there  is  this  much  to  be  said  for  these 
imitative  architects,  especially  in  connection  with 
their  designs  for  private  houses  and  for  the  stores 
which  cater  to  the  rich.  They  have  responded 
to  a  partial  symptom  of  our  so-called  democratic 
civilization.  For  the  latter  in  one  respect,  at 
least,  resembles  the  aristocratic  conditions  of  the 
Italian  Renaissance;  it  stUl  involves  a  privileged 
class:  a  Plutocratic  Aristocracy.  So,  for  the 
present,  there  may  be  some  reasonableness  in 
money  and  power  entrenching  themselves  in  pal- 
aces that  are  modeled  on  those  of  ItaHan  palaces 
and  French  chateaux^  and  furnished  with  the 
belongings  which  have  been  imported  from  them. 
But  in  any  consideration  of  Art  in  relation  to  our 
Life,  do  not  let  us  take  seriously  these  imitative 
panderings  to  American  privilege. 


OUR  PUBLIC  BUILDINGS  195 

One  would  rather  contemplate,  as  character- 
istically Democratic,  the  way  in  which  the  art 
of  the  architect  is  being  expended  upon  school- 
houses  and  hospitals.  For  in  these  the  architect 
is  working  in  response  to  the  collective  needs  of 
the  community  and  in  touch  with  the  most  ad- 
vanced science  of  Life.  Informed  by  scientists, 
whether  educators,  physicians,  surgeons  or  chem- 
ists, as  to  the  nature  of  the  needs,  he  is  using  his 
creative-inventive  faculty  to  meet  the  demand 
by  buildings  organically  fit  and  efiicient.  Hence, 
all  about  us  there  is  represented  in  schoolhouses 
and  hospitals  a  renaissance  of  the  art  of  archi- 
tecture. Many  of  the  buildings  proclaim  in  their 
external  design  the  dignity  of  their  high  purpose. 
All  should  and  in  time  all  will,  as  we  realize  that 
external  Beauty  is  the  fit  complement  of  internal 
Fitness;  the  outward  and  visible  sign  of  the  faith 
that  is  in  us. 

Meanwhile,  there  is  another  branch  of  archi- 
tecture which  has  grown  out  of  the  needs  of  our 
conditions  and  is  gradually  becoming  expressive 
of  the  national  aspiration.  I  allude  to  what  are 
popularly  called  "skyscrapers":  namely,  office 
buildings,  business  buildings  and  loft  buildings. 
The  origin  and  the  growth  of  these  have  not  been 
conditioned  by  fashion  or  luxurious  whim  but  by 
necessity.  The  high  value  of  land  in  the  business 
parts  of  cities  has  made  it  impracticable  to  spread 


196  ART  FOR  LIFE'S  SAKE 

the  buildings  horizontally.  There  was  only  one 
alternative  —  to  raise  them  skyward.  This  verti- 
cal growth  was  made  possible  by  the  improved 
methods  of  steel-rolling-mills,  the  invention  of 
the  elevator  and  the  science  generally  of  the  engi- 
neer. The  skyscraper,  in  fact,  is  a  creation  of 
engineering;  the  only  strictly  architectural  prob- 
lem involved  being  that  of  clothing  the  steel 
structure  with  a  veneer  of  marble,  bricks,  terra- 
cotta or  concrete. 

For  the  solution  of  this  problem  there  was  no 
direct  help  to  be  gotten  from  antique  data,  since 
of  the  only  building  which  might  have  offered 
suggestion,  the  Tower  of  Babel,  the  record  is  but 
scanty  and  not  of  expert  or  technical  precision. 
Accordingly  the  architects  began  by  piling  one 
arrangement  of  columns  on  another,  or  by  merely 
stacking  up  the  necessary  number  of  rows  of 
windows.  This  method  unfortunately  still  con- 
tinues. Meanwhile,  certain  architects,  thought- 
fully considering  the  artistic  principle  involved, 
discovered  the  analogy  presented  by  a  column. 
The  latter  is  mounted  on  a  base,  ascends  in  a 
shaft  and  terminates  in  a  capital;  its  beauty 
consists  in  its  upward  growth,  terminating  in  a 
conclusion.  So  they  reasoned  from  this  that  a 
skyscraper  could  be  transformed  from  a  mere 
repetition  of  horizontal  parts  into  an  organic, 
vertical  Unity  by  emphasizing  the  idea  of  upward 
growth.    This   could   be   done,   when   the   cost 


OUR  PUBLIC  BUILDINGS  197 

permitted,  by  running  ribs  of  projecting  masonry 
up  the  entire  height.  These  would  counteract  the 
horizontal  repetition  and  carry  the  eye  up  unin- 
terruptedly. Or,  when  the  cost  precluded  this, 
the  same  effect  could  be  obtained  by  so  arranging 
the  windows,  that  some  of  the  vertical  intervals 
of  wall-space  should  be  wider  than  the  others,  thus 
producing  shafts  of  masonry  which  carry  the  eye 
upward.  The  former  method  is  in  the  nature  of 
appUed  features;  the  latter,  however,  is  purely 
one  of  construction,  involving  neither  more  nor 
less  material,  but  simply  organizing  it  for  greater 
efficiency  of  expression.  By  a  little  observation 
everyone  can  see  for  himself  how  far  this  principle 
has  been  applied  in  a  given  building  and  its  effect 
upon  the  latter  as  compared  with  buildings  where 
it  has  been  ignored  or  applied  less  happily. 

The  skyscrapers,  even  when  the  external  design 
is  not  as  satisfactory  as  it  might  have  been,  are 
marvels  of  engineering  organization.  For  buried 
deep  in  the  ground  is  a  complex  system,  reduced 
to  order,  of  machinery  for  supplying  heat,  light, 
ventilation  and  elevator  service;  while  the  upper 
part  involves  a  network  of  wires  and  pipes,  con- 
necting the  multitude  of  offices,  many  of  which 
are  fitted  with  highly  organized  arrangements 
for  the  convenient  dispatch  of  business.  Many 
house  during  the  day  a  population  equal  to 
that  of  a  small-sized  city,  while  almost  all  are  in 
their  internal  arrangements  marvelous  examples 


198  ART  FOR  LIFE'S  SAKE 

of  what  can  be  accomplished  by  organized  co- 
operation, if  there  are  the  will,  the  energy  and 
the  inventive  capacity  behind  it. 

The  expression  of  these  skyscrapers,  at  present, 
is  by  no  means  solely  of  Beauty.  Many  of  them 
are  monuments  of  Ugliness,  the  expressions  mainly 
of  aggressive  materiahsm.  All  tend  to  convert 
the  narrow  streets  into  canons,  robbed  of  sunshine 
and  swept  with  the  tempestuous  eddies  of  down- 
draughts  of  wind.  Their  immediate  Fitness  for 
specific  conditions  has  not  yet  been  accommodated 
to  the  general  Fitness  of  city-designing;  and  their 
more  than  occasional  Ugliness  testifies  to  crude- 
ness,  ruthlessness  and  disregard  of  the  finer  ele- 
ments of  life  in  commercial  and  civic  conditions. 

Yet,  if  you  will  view  them  not  as  separate  build- 
ings but  in  their  aggregate  relations,  it  will  be 
found  that  they  compose  into  masses  and  sky  lines, 
not  only  titanic  but  grandly  impressive.  Viewed 
in  their  Wholeness  of  relation,  individual  short- 
comings become  merged  in  an  ensemble  as  mar- 
velous as  it  is  inspiring.  For  their  Wholeness 
does  not  appeal  only  to  the  eye  of  sight.  It 
appeals  also  to  the  eye  of  vision.  The  imagina- 
tion discovers  in  these  products  of  necessity  not 
only  their  Fitness  to  material  needs,  but  also  a 
fit  expression  of  the  aspiration,  dauntless  ad- 
venture and  superb  independence  of  the  soul  of 
this  new  civilization.  They  illustrate  the  truth 
that  man,  when  in  earnest,  ever  builds  better 


OUR  PUBLIC  BUILDINGS  199 

than  he  knows;  and  that  his  work,  while  it  may 
reflect  his  weakness,  is  a  symbol  and  expression 
also  of  the  best  that  is  in  him. 

Moreover  —  a  fact  of  happy  augury  —  they  are 
in  their  beauty  and  their  ugliness,  an  expression 
of  the  northern  genius  as  contrasted  with  the 
Mediterranean.  They  derive  from  those  elements 
in  our  race  which  still  survive  from  its  primitive 
origin,  when  the  untamed  freedom  of  spirit  of  the 
race,  and  its  far-reaching  and  gigantic  vision, 
fashioned  its  life  on  large  and  natural  lines  against 
a  spiritual  background  of  mighty  heroes  and 
uncouth  elemental  gods.  As  its  energy  became 
controlled  and  organized,  the  genius  of  the  race 
expressed  itself  in  the  "unity  of  variations''  that 
characterizes  the  Gothic  cathedral.  Today,  the 
same  genius,  similarly  characterized  by  the  sig- 
nificance of  unity  in  variety,  is  working  toward 
an  expression  of  itself  in  architecture  which  will 
be  an  adequate  symbol  and  expression  of  its  faith 
and  hope  in  Life. 

When  that  faith  shall  have  become  as  noble, 
embracing  and  intent  upon  the  common  good  as 
was  the  Medieval  ReHgious  faith,  its  embodiment 
in  architecture  will  grow  to  be  as  beautiful  — 
in  a  different  way,  its  own  way  —  as  was  that  of 
the  cathedrals.  Indeed,  it  may  become  more 
beautiful,  because  it  will  be  associated  with 
beautiful  and  healthful  conditions  and  with  the 
evidences  of  Beauty,  not  only  in  certain  buildings 


200  ART  FOR  LIFE'S  SAKE 

and  their  aggregate  relations,  but  in  their  wide- 
spread relations  to  all  the  other  varieties  in  unity 
of  the  true  City  Beautiful. 

Meanwhile,  they  already  involve  the  assurance 
of  this  hope  being  some  day  realized,  since  their 
conspicuous  element  is  Fitness;  fitness  to  their 
immediate  needs,  and  fitness  to  the  genius  of  the 
race.  They  have  grown  out  of  facts  and  have  in 
them  the  fact  of  growth :  needing  for  their  develop- 
ment only  a  further  Fitness  to  the  higher  and 
finer  elements  that  are  growing  in  our  civilization. 
And  this  involves  the  need  that  the  community 
itself  shall  fit  its  conduct  and  ideals  closer  and 
closer  to  the  possibilities  of  Democracy. 


For  it  is  not  alone  in  the  specific  field  of  Art 
that  our  present  conditions  betray  evidences  of 
unfitness.  In  all  directions  we  find  ourselves 
encumbered  and  checked  in  progress  by  the  per- 
sistence of  the  past.  Nor  are  we  singular  in  this 
respect.  Everywhere  the  modern  world  is  strait- 
ened in  its  growth  by  the  tight-fitting  clothes  that 
it  has  inherited  from  the  wardrobe  of  the  past. 
Especially  is  the  pinch  felt  in  countries  Hke  the 
United  States  and  Great  Britain,  for  in  them  the 
democratic  ideal  has  made  greatest  headway  and 
yet  is  perpetually  thwarted  by  the  hold-over  of 
the  aristocratic,  the  grip  of  which  has  been 
clinched  by  the  growth  of  a  bourgeois  aristocracy, 


OUR  PUBLIC  BUILDINGS  201 

founded  upon  money  and  the  power  thereof. 
Every  reform  in  the  interest  of  all  is  hampered 
by  the  need  of  compromising  with  these  vested 
interests.  None  gets  an  opportunity  of  being 
devised  and  tested  solely  on  the  basis  of  its  Fitness 
to  secure  the  end,  in  which,  as  a  nation,  we  pro- 
fess to  believe:  the  right  of  all,  irrespective  of 
class,  creed  or  color,  to  Life,  Liberty  and  Pursuit 
of  Happiness. 

It  will  be  objected  that  it  is  the  wisdom  of 
experience  that  every  step  forward  must  be  based 
upon  compromise  with  that  part  of  the  present 
which  belongs  to  the  past.  I  admit  it;  for  the 
only  reforms  which  prove  worthy  and  lasting  are 
those  that  represent  a  growth  from  what  has  been 
to  what  shall  be.  But  in  healthy,  natural  growth 
the  inheritance  of  the  past  is  not  stubbornly  op- 
posing the  expansion  of  the  present;  which  is  too 
frequently  the  case  in  the  story  of  human  growth. 
In  the  latter  the  compromise  is  seldom  a  frank 
and  sincere  adjustment  of  old  and  new  conditions. 
It  is  rather  an  extortion  of  concessions  from  re- 
luctant interests,  when  they  find  themselves  con- 
fronted with  the  inevitable.  The  recognition  of 
the  Fitness  of  any  given  step  in  growth  is  apt  to 
be  all  on  one  side. 

Meanwhile,  is  it  not  a  fact  that  all  progress  is 
the  result  of  continual  refitting:  due  to  a  live 
recognition  of  what  is  fit  and  what  is  unfit?  The 
progress,  for  example,  which  is  being  made  in  the 


202  ART  FOR  LIFE'S  SAKE 

government  of  cities  is  due  to  the  acknowledgment, 
that  the  business  of  municipal  government  has 
been  conducted  on  lines  which  in  the  management 
of  private  business  would  mean  bankruptcy  and 
accordingly  would  not  be  tolerated  for  a  moment; 
and  that  mimicipal  reforms  are  a  question  of 
economics,  wherein  the  Fitness  of  the  means  to 
the  end  is  a  principle  of  first  importance.  On 
the  other  hand,  the  slowness  of  progress  in  this 
and  other  reforms  is  due  to  the  indifference  to^ 
Fitness  which  is  displayed  by  the  masses  of  the 
people  in  all  matters  which  do  not  immediately 
concern  their  selfish,  individual  interests. 

Nor  is  the  cause  of  this  far  to  seek.  What 
provision  is  made  for  training  the  young  in  a 
sense  of  the  importance  of  Fitness?  We  are 
recognizing  the  importance  of  vocational  training 
and  progress  is  being  made  in  providing  it.  But 
this,  at  best,  is  only  provision  for  the  specific 
purpose  of  making  a  Living.  What  provision  is 
being  made  to  train  the  child  in  the  abstract 
principles  of  Fitness  that  wiU  prepare  it  for  the 
larger  vocation  of  Life  and  Living?  What,  if  any- 
thing, is  being  done  to  fit  it  by  knowledge  for  the 
proper  management  of  its  own  body:  to  fit  it  for 
the  proper  exercise  of  its  sensations,  emotions 
and  intelligence?  What  to  fit  it  for  citizenship? 
I  do  not  speak  of  generalizations  in  connection 
with  the.  flag  and  patriotism.  These  are  useful 
in  creating  a  fine  spirit;  but  what  is  being  done 


OUR  PUBLIC  BUILDINGS  203 

to  direct  this  spirit  toward  the  specific  duties, 
responsibilities  and  privileges  of  citizenship?  Is 
the  child  being  taught  to  think  along  specific  lines 
that  will  fit  him  to  apply  the  principles  of  Fitness 
to  each  and  all  of  these  as  he  will  meet  them  in  the 
life  outside  the  school? 

Hitherto,  our  schools,  while  unsectarian,  have 
been  also  unpoHtical;  that  is  to  say,  they  have  not 
attempted  to  bias  the  child  in  the  direction  of  the 
Republican  or  Democratic  point  of  view.  But 
this  sectarian  idea  of  politics  is  everywhere  being 
swallowed  up  in  a  larger  idea  of  politics;  namely, 
that  it  is  a  question  of  economics.  Is  nothing  going 
to  be  done  to  fit  the  child  in  advance  for  useful 
citizenship  in  this  economic  idea  of  government? 
The  question  surely  involves  its  own  answer. 

And  the  plea  I  make  is  that  we  need  to  supple- 
ment the  abstract  ideas  of  patriotism,  with  the 
abstract  ideas  with  which  this  book  concludes; 
the  first  of  which  is  Fitness.  Fitness  should  be 
taught  as  a  great  elemental  principle,  on  which 
all  true  growth  of  Life  must  be  established. 
Fitness  should  be  one  of  the  ideas  continually 
presented  to  the  child,  until  the  necessity  of  it 
becomes  a  fixed  habit  of  thought.  And  in  their 
several  degrees  each  one  of  the  specific  branches 
of  study  should  be  made  to  illustrate  continually 
the  Beauty  and  Value  of  Fitness,  as  associated 
with  Wholeness,  Harmony,  Balance  and  Rhythm 
in  the  Beauty  of  Life  and  Living. 


204  ART  FOR  LIFE'S  SAKE 

Such  coordination  will  infuse  fuller  life,  mean- 
ing and  interest  into  the  specific  study,  while 
the  knowledge  that  all  the  other  branches  of 
study  are  being  similarly  coordinated  to  these 
basic  principles  will  infuse  with  fuller  life  and 
meaning  the  whole  curriculum. 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

UNITY, 
WHOLENESS,   HEALTHINESS,  HOLINESS 

UNITY,  the  second  of  the  principles  upon 
which  scientific-artistic  organization  must 
be  based,  has  already  engaged  our 
attention.  It  is  in  a  measure  the  topic  of  this 
entire  book,  in  its  plea  for  the  removal  of  all 
artificial  barriers  which  check  the  free  growth  of 
Hfe  and  consequently  obstruct  the  fulfilment  of 
the  democratic  ideal.  Nor  have  we  overlooked 
the  fact  that  its  EngUsh  equivalent,  Wholeness, 
is  derived  from  the  Germanic  root  whence  also 
sprang  Health  and  Holiness.  In  fact,  the  primi- 
tive instinct  of  our  Northern  race  divined  the 
truth  and  the  promise  which  the  latest  modern 
science  has  ratified,  that  the  highest  physical, 
ethical  and  spiritual  Health  are  the  product  of 
organic  Wholeness. 

The  instinct  of  Wholeness  has  ever  been  one 
of  the  chief  motives  of  the  artist  in  organizing 
his  work  of  Art.  He  has  taken  the  raw  material 
of  nature  and  by  transmuting  it  into  an  organic 
Wholeness  has  enhanced  its  efficiency,  significance 
and  expression:  its  efficiency  in  the  case  of  things 


2o6  ART  FOR  LIFE'S  SAKE 

constructed  for  useful  service,  its  significance  and 
expression  in  the  case  of  things  intended  primarily 
to  impress  our  mind  and  feeling.  The  idea  of 
Wholeness  the  artist  learned  from  nature.  For 
example,  every  plant  and  tree,  in  its  complete- 
ness of  root,  stem,  branches,  leaves,  flowers,  fruit 
and  seed-vessels,  proclaims  it.  And  the  Wholeness 
of  each  plant  or  tree  is  the  result  of  the  relation 
of  the  parts.  This  is  the  secret  whereby  the 
artist  has  been  able  to  render  the  Wholeness  of 
his  work  of  Art  superior  to  that  of  the  works 
of  nature.  He  has  carried  further  the  principle  of 
relativity. 

That  oak  tree,  for  example,  developing  under 
favorable  conditions  of  light,  air  and  space,  has 
spread  its  roots  through  what  there  was  of  soft 
and  energizing  soil  and  fastened  their  grip  about 
the  rocks;  has  folded  layer  after  layer  of  strength 
around  its  trunk;  stretched  its  ample  arms  in  the 
freedom  of  heaven  and  clothed  their  muscles 
with  abundant  glory  of  foliage.  It  is  a  noble 
instance  of  whole  growth.  But  in  the  hap- 
hazard of  nature  it  shares  no  Wholeness  with  the 
surrounding  landscape;  it  has  no  directly  organ- 
ized relationship  to  its  environment. 

The  artist,  on  the  other  hand,  selecting  this 
oak  tree  for  the  subject  of  his  picture,  selects  also 
just  so  much  of  the  meadow,  hillside  and  sky  as 
shall  combine  with  the  tree  into  an  Organized 
Whole.    He  organizes  his  "composition,''  so  that 


UNITY,  HEALTHINESS  207 

a  new  relationship  is  established  between  the 
tree  and  its  surrounding;  with  the  result  that  the 
significance  of  the  tree  and  indeed  of  the  whole 
selection  of  nature  is  enhanced;  its  expression 
rendered  more  noticeable  and  compelling.  He 
has  achieved  this  by  judicious  distribution  of  the 
lines  and  masses  and  colors  over  the  surface  of  his 
canvas;  thereby  organizing  the  relation  between 
all  the  parts  of  the  composition,  in  order  that 
their  combined  effect  may  be  one  of  complete 
Wholeness.  Shift  the  position  of  the  lines  and 
masses,  change  the  disposition  of  the  colors,  or  cut 
a  piece  off  one  side  of  the  canvas  and  you  disturb 
the  relation  and  impair  the  Wholeness  of  the 
combination. 

It  was  ignorance  of  this  principle  of  Wholeness 
that  made  the  citizens  of  Amsterdam  in  the  early 
part  of  the  eighteenth  century  mutilate  Rem- 
brandt's famous  picture,  the  so-called  Night 
Watch.  They  cut  strips  off  the  sides  to  make  it 
fit  the  space  in  the  room  to  which  they  removed 
it!  Fortunately,  before  the  outrage  was  com- 
mitted a  copy  of  the  picture,  on  a  smaller  scale, 
had  been  made  by  Gerrit  Lundens.  It  now  hangs 
in  the  National  Gallery,  showing  not  only  that 
two  figures  have  been  lost  from  the  group  but 
also  that  the  relation  of  the  two  principal  figures 
to  the  whole  has  been  changed.  In  the  original, 
as  it  is  to  be  seen  in  the  Rijks  Museum,  in  Amster- 
dam, they  now  appear  to  be  stepping  out  of  the 


2o8  ART  FOR  LIFERS  SAKE 

picture,  whereas  it  was  characteristic  of  Rem- 
brandt to  keep  all  his  figures  within  the  hollow 
space  that  is  represented,  each  occupying  exactly 
its  own  space  in  due  relation  to  the  Whole.  Simi- 
lar indifference  to  the  principle  of  Wholeness  is 
also  frequently  displayed  by  art-editors,  who  will 
sHce  ojff  a  bit  of  the  photograph  of  a  picture  to 
make  it  fit  a  space  on  the  page.  I  doubt  if  they 
would  permit  the  tailor  to  slice  a  bit  off  their 
own  shoulders  in  order  to  fit  them  to  a  coat  that 
he  wished  to  sell  them! 

Precisely  similar  mutilations  are  sometimes 
practiced  by  magazine  editors  upon  short  stories 
submitted  for  their  approval  and  by  theatrical 
managers  on  a  play.  In  each  case  the  artist  has 
taken  the  raw  material  of  nature  and  converted 
the  straggling  incidents,  as  he  might  have  received 
them  by  hearsay  or  through  the  reports  of  a  news- 
paper, or  from  his  own  observation  of  Hfe,  and  has 
organized  them  into  a  compact  and  interlocked 
Whole,  thereby  enhancing  their  significance.  He 
has  discovered  the  essentials  of  cause  and  effect 
which  are  involved  in  the  incidents  and  also  the 
essentials  of  character  involved  in  the  people  who 
participate  in  them.  He  has  searched  into  the 
relations  which  these  facts  of  character  establish 
between  the  different  people  and  the  influence 
which  will  be  reciprocally  excited  by  the  individ- 
uals upon  the  incidents  and  by  the  incidents  upon 
the  individual.    Thus,  by  paring  away  all  unessen- 


UNITY,  HEALTHINESS  209 

tial  details  he  has  got  down  to  the  bone  of  the 
"conflict"  which  the  clash  of  character  and  inci- 
dent involves  and  then  proceeded  to  organize  the 
essentials.  Thus,  the  result,  whether  in  the  short 
story  or  the  play,  is  no  longer  a  mere  recital  of 
casual  facts  but  presents  in  epitomized  form  an 
abstract  of  the  Wholeness  of  Life. 

He  begins  with  his  Introduction.  He  intro- 
duces to  us  the  characters  and  their  environment, 
telling  us  just  so  much  of  their  past  as  will  help 
us  to  know  them  and  to  follow  intelligently  and 
with  interest  what  is  about  to  happen  to  them. 
Then  he  proceeds  from  the  Introduction  to  the 
next  step  in  the  organizing  of  his  plot  —  the 
Development.  The  characters  being  so  and  so 
and  the  conditions  under  which  they  come  together 
being  such  and  such,  he  gradually  shows  us  how 
certain  situations  naturally  grow  out  of  this  con- 
flict of  personahties  and  environment.  Thus  he 
builds  up,  brick  by  brick,  to  the  third  stage,  that 
of  the  Climax.  This  is  the  turning  point  of  the 
story  or  play.  It  should  have  grown  naturally 
out  of  all  that  has  gone  before,  involving  neither 
more  nor  less  than  what  we  have  been  shown  of 
the  characters  and  the  conditions  and  the  result- 
ant situations.  It  may  or  may  not  involve  the 
shock  of  a  striking  situation,  but  it  must  be  con- 
ditioned by  the  logic  of  cause  and  effect  and  be 
the  direct  and  necessary  product  of  what  has  pre- 
ceded it.     Then  follows  the  Denouement:    the 


2IO  ART  FOR  LIFE'S  SAKE 

untying  of  the  knot,  the  unraveling  of  the  snarl 
which  the  conflict  of  character  and  situation  has 
occasioned.  Sometimes  the  knot  will  be  severed, 
as  by  the  old  Greek  device  of  the  "god  in  the 
machine,"  by  the  manifest  interposition  of  Provi- 
dence, or  by  some  surprise  which  the  author 
springs  upon  us;  or  again,  it  may  be  loosened 
by  everyday  means.  But,  whatever  the  means 
adopted,  the  Denouement  must  be  effected  by 
some  method  that  does  not  outrage  probability; 
one,  in  fact,  for  which  the  author  has  in  some  way 
prepared  us,  so  that  the  solving  of  the  plot  seems 
reasonable.  And  now  the  end  is  in  sight.  The 
artist  takes  his  final  step  to  the  Conclusion  or 
Catastrophe.  Frequently  a  story  or  play  ends 
in  disaster  to  one  or  more  of  the  characters,  so 
that  catastrophe  has  come  to  have  a  sinister 
meaning.  But  Hterally  and  originally  it  implies 
simply  the  "  sudden  turn  "  that  is  given  to  the  plot 
to  bring  it  to  a  finish.  It  is  a  figure  of  speech, 
practically  equivalent  to  the  "shutting  to  of  the 
doors"  implied  in  Conclusion.  Each  brings  the 
organic  growth  of  the  plot  to  a  completeness. 
The  growth  has  been  natural;  but,  because  it  has 
been  organized,  the  Whole  enhances  the  signifi- 
cance and  impressiveness  of  the  unregulated 
natural  facts.  Facts,  which  we  forget  as  soon  as 
we  have  read  them  in  a  newspaper  or  which  we 
pass  unnoticed  in  actual  Hfe,  become  poignant, 
compelling  and  durable  in  memory,  when  they 


UNITY,  HEALTHINESS  211 

have  been  related  into  the  Wholeness  of  a  Work 
of  Art. 

Meanwhile,  how  much  do  the  public  in  their 
ignorance  or  indifference  to  Art  care  about  natural 
growth  and  organized  Wholeness?  They  are  not 
seeking  true  and  durable  impressions  of  Hfe, 
but  only  to  be  amused  for  a  few  idle  moments. 
Accordingly,  many  magazine  editors  and  theatri- 
cal managers,  knowing  this  and  catering  only  or 
mainly  to  the  cheapest  and  most  commonplace 
sensations  and  emotions  of  their  cHentele,  insist 
upon  a  "happy  ending"  for  the  story  or  play. 
No  matter  how  the  facts  of  life  may  be  distorted 
or  the  logic  of  cause  and  effect  defied.  Nature  and 
Art  alike  must  be  abused  in  order  that  the  dear 
people  may  be  kept  in  their  childish  good  humor 
with,  as  it  were,  a  stick  of  candy. 

It  is  particularly  in  the  case  of  plays  that 
this  mischievous  tampering  with  natural  growth 
and  organized  Wholeness  of  the  plot  is  per- 
petrated. If  we  are  disposed  to  dwell  with 
despair  over  the  scarcity  of  vital  American  plays 
and  the  inadequacy  with  which  the  few  that 
are  produced  represent  the  facts  and  ideals 
of  American  life,  it  is  but  fair  to  remember  the 
odds  that  confront  the  dramatist,  especially  the 
young  one.  Before  he  can  get  a  chance  of  satisfy- 
ing the  public,  he  must  satisfy  the  manager.  And 
the  latter  is  interested  in  theatricalism,  not  in  the 
drama  of  life.    He  is  a  creature  of  traditions,  de- 


212  ART  FOR  LIFERS  SAKE 

rived  from  the  box  oj05ce.  Such  and  such  a  play 
has  paid ;  such  and  such  a  one  has  not.  He  does 
not  analyze  the  causes  of  the  one  or  the  other 
result;  how  far  the  latter  was  due  to  the  period 
or  conditions  of  its  presentment.  The  one  play 
paid;  the  other  did  not;  so  it  is  plays  resem- 
bling the  former  that  he  chooses;  anything  that 
suggests  a  kinship  with  the  latter  he  rejects. 
Moreover,  having  chosen  the  play  that  seems 
to  correspond  with  the  one  which  has  already 
succeeded,  he  will  not  hesitate  to  alter  it  in 
rehearsal,  to  cut  out  this  or  insert  that,  in  order 
to  convert  it  more  nearly  into  what  he  supposes 
will  be  a  "safe  thing,''  a  "sure  money-getter." 

Thus,  the  young  writer  soon  discovers  that  his 
vision  of  Hfe  counts  for  nothing,  beside  the  musty, 
fusty,  theatrical  stage  trickery  which  the  manager 
relies  upon  to  catch  the  dollars  of  the  public. 
The  beginner  is  not  strong  enough  to  hold  his 
own;  and,  if  after  all  his  play  fail,  the  manager 
lays  the  blame  on  him;  whereas,  if  it  succeed  in 
making  money,  the  manager  takes  the  credit. 
"There,  my  boy,"  he  explains  to  the  author,  "you 
see  I  was  right."  And  perhaps  the  young  author 
does  see  it  in  that  Hght  and  thus  rivets  round  his 
neck  the  gold  chain  by  which  the  manager  will 
lead  him  on,  like  a  performing  poodle,  to  further 
triumphs  of  theatrical  somersaulting.  Or  he  is 
obdurate  in  his  ideal  of  representing  real  Hfe  truly, 
kicks  against  the  vulgar  pricks  and  —  starves. 


UNITY,  HEALTHINESS  213 

Meanwhile,  the  intelligent  part  of  the  public 
wonders  why  so  Httle  progress  is  made  toward 
a  real  American  Drama. 

One  hope  in  sight  for  it  and  for  the  intelligent, 
conscientious  author  is  through  the  movement 
that  has  been  set  on  foot  by  inteUigent,  would-be 
playgoers.  It  is  known  as  the  Drama  League 
of  America.  Here  again  is  an  effort  toward 
organized  Wholeness.  The  scattered  hosts  of 
people,  who  would  go  to  the  theater,  if  they  could 
be  sure  of  an  intelligent  play,  but  have  lost  the 
habit  of  going  through  continual  disappointment, 
are  enrolling  in  this  organization  which  already 
covers  some  twenty-eight  States  and  includes  a 
membership  of  over  fifty  thousand  persons. 
Through  a  system  of  circulating  bulletins  which 
draw  attention  to  meritorious  plays  and  to  the 
character  of  their  merit,  they  are  in  a  position  to 
ignore  the  misleading  rubbish  which  is  circulated 
by  the  press  agent  and  to  select  their  plays  with  a 
reasonable  chance  of  not  being  disappointed.  The 
Association,  in  fact,  is  leading  to  the  formation  of 
an  Organized  Audience,  which  already  is  making 
the  managers  prick  their  ears  and  will  in  time 
compel  them  to  recognize  that  the  public  are  not 
all  fools  who  can  be  fooled  all  the  time. 

This  indeed  is  but  one  more  instance  of  the 
growing  recognition  in  every  department  of  Life 
of  the  value  of  Cooperation.  For  it  is  an  unmis- 
takable feature  of  our  time  that  the  principle 


214  ART  FOR  LIFE'S  SAKE 

of  Collective  Organization  is  superseding  the  older 
system  of  unquestioned  Individualism.  It  is  no 
doubt  true  that  many  combinations  have  been 
conceived  and  developed  in  defiance  of  the  rights 
of  others  and  are  used  for  purposes  which,  if  they 
benefit  the  community,  do  so  only  indirectly. 
But  the  same  is  true  of  the  individuaHstic  system. 
"Malefactors  in  high  places''  and  "predatory 
barons,"  restrainers  of  trade  and  of  the  lives  and 
liberties  of  their  fellows  are  as  old  as  history. 
They  worked  for  themselves  and  their  own  in- 
terests all  the  time;  and  for  the  most  part  were 
above  the  law.  In  fact,  most  of  the  great  crimes 
of  history  are  crimes  of  excessive  individualism, 
beside  which  the  crimes  of  combination  pale  into 
insignificance.  But,  unlike  individualism,  com- 
bination carries  within  it  the  possibihties  and  cer- 
tainty of  reform,  since  it  is  a  step  in  the  direction 
of  Cooperation.  It  is  a  phase,  even  though  at 
present  it  may  be  a  diseased  one,  of  the  Social 
Spirit,  whereas  aggressive  Individualism  is  in  its 
nature  Anti-Social. 

Although  the  motto  of  our  Government  in- 
volves the  principle  of  Cooperation,  individuahsm 
was  a  necessary  phase  in  the  opening  up  of  the 
vast  waste  places  of  the  continent.  The  pioneers 
marched  ahead  of  law  and  order  and  won  the 
right  to  live,  solely  by  their  own  strong  hands  and 
hearts.  But,  no  sooner  was  settlement  effected 
than  the  social  instinct  of  Democracy  everywhere, 


UNITY,  HEALTHINESS  215 

declared  itself.  The  Collective  Idea  began  to 
grow  up  alongside  of  that  of  individualism;  and 
it  is  only  a  question  of  time  when  the  logic  of  the 
Social  Principle  of  Democracy  will  be  fulfilled 
and  the  idea  of  Cooperative  Wholeness  will  super- 
sede the  waste  and  inefficiency  of  individualistic 
disintegration.  If  at  present  we  are  threatened 
with  the  evils  of  unregulated  combination  it  is 
only  because  Democracy  is  progressing  more 
quickly  than  the  wit  of  man  can  keep  up  with, 
clogged  as  it  stiU  is  with  the  economic  encimi- 
brances  of  the  past. 


CHAPTER   XXV 
INDIVIDUALISM   AND   COLLECTIVISM 

IT  is  symptomatic  of  the  leaps  and  bounds  with 
which  the  spirit  of  Democracy  is  moving,  that 
Napoleon  is  now  being  subjected  to  criticism. 
To  his  contemporaries  in  Europe  he  was  a  menace; 
but  America,  from  a  safe  distance,  regarded  him 
as  a  hero,  because  he  put  himself  at  the  head  of  a 
republican  France,  upset  thrones,  and  to  increase 
the  embarrassment  of  England,  coquetted  with 
the  United  States.  So  far,  the  hero-worship  of 
Napoleon  in  this  country  was  mainly  sentimental; 
but  it  took  on  a  real  devotion  after  the  pioneer 
days  when  Individualism  here  was  at  its  zenith. 
Then  Napoleon,  the  arch  individuaUst,  reigned  for 
a  time  unquestioned  in  the  imagination  of  Ameri- 
cans. Now,  however,  with  the  development  of 
the  Collective  Ideal  of  Democracy,  first  one  his- 
torian and  then  another  has  dared  to  impugn 
the  excessive  individualism  of  the  popular  hero. 
They  find  him  to  have  been  anti-social,  using  the 
awakened  republicanism  of  France  for  his  own 
ends,  stifling  it  in  imperial  mummery  and  thereby 
setting  back  the  clock  of  his  nation's  progress; 
able  to  win,  but  not  to  hold;  eminently  destruc- 
tive, but  too  selfish  for  constructive  statesmanship; 


INDIVIDUALISM  —  COLLECTIVISM     217 

reckless  of  others'  lives;  using  men,  and  women 
also,  as  food  for  his  ambition  and  desires,  then 
ruthlessly  discarding  them.  In  fact,  historians 
are  beginning  to  discover  that  it  was  Napoleon's 
lack  of  the  Social  Instinct  which  was  the  cause 
of  his  final  undoing. 

Meanwhile,  we  have  boasted  of  our  own  "Napo- 
leons" of  this  and  of  that,  just  as  we  have  bowed 
down  to  "czars''  and  "barons"  in  our  midst. 
But  these  high-sounding  names  have  lost  their 
ring  of  sycophantic  admiration;  they  have  be- 
come unpopular.  For  the  *  Social  idea  of  De- 
mocracy is  rising  and  flowing  every  day  more 
full;  and  people  are  getting  together  in  their 
masses,  and  learning,  however  slowly,  to  cooperate 
with  one  another  collectively  for  the  common  good. 
As  woodmen  mark  the  trees  that  are  to  be  felled, 
so  privilege,  whether  of  individualism  or  com- 
bination, is  scotched  to  go,  as  space  for  better 
opportunity  for  growth  is  being  opened  up  to  the 
largest  possible  proportion  of  the  community. 
In  a  word,  our  motto  "E  Pluribus  Unum,"  is  in 
process  of  gaining  deeper  significance.  From  being 
the  principle  of  the  federal  organization  it  is  being 
carried  down  into  the  concerns  of  state,  city,  town 
and  village,  as  men  and  women  are  learning  to 
organize  in  a  Cooperation  of  Ideals  and  Conduct 
to  promote  the  Wholeness  of  Democratic  life. 

*  *  *  *  -je-  *  •)(• 

Nor  is  Collectivism  a  negation  of  the  Individual. 


2i8  ART  FOR  LIFE'S  SAKE 

So  far  from  being  a  hindrance  to  him,  it  can  be 
an  incentive.  The  Federal  Cooperation  of  the 
States  has  laid  no  embargo  on  State  individuaHsm. 
Each  State,  indeed,  in  the  large  enthusiasm  of  the 
Whole  Nation  has  been  saved  from  hostile  rivalry 
with  the  other  States  and  thereby  has  been  the 
freer  to  work  out  its  own  individual  growth. 

For  the  essential  point  is  this :  Is  Individualism 
working  for  itself  alone  or  through  itself  for  the 
Good  of  the  Whole?  The  one  kind  represents 
the  lees  of  the  past,  the  other  is  full  of  the  ferment 
of  Democracy's  new  wine.  The  older  imposed 
itself  upon  the  community  and  battened  on  it: 
the  new  is  evolved  from  the  community  and  will 
be  the  finest  flower  of  its  growth.  It  will  result 
in  an  aristocracy,  not  of  privilege  but  of  inevitable, 
because  completely  natural,  evolution.  Indeed, 
one  cannot  conceive  of  the  principle  of  Collective 
Organization,  without  realizing  the  need  as  well  as 
the  enrichment  of  IndividuaHsm,  at  least  if  we 
hearken  to  the  lessons  of  Art. 

A  musical  composition,  for  example,  is  built 
around  a  theme  or  motif  which  through  all  the 
mechanics  of  harmonic  combination  asserts  and 
again  and  again  reasserts  itself.  Similarly,  the 
plot  of  every  novel  and  play  revolves  around  one 
or  two  leading  characters. 

The  whole  of  the  basic  idea  of  "Macbeth"  may 
be  that  of  the  Hf e  of  man  as  environed  on  aU  sides 
by  the  supernatural;    yet  the  efl&ciency  of  the 


INDIVIDUALISM  —  COLLECTIVISM    219 

lesson  is  achieved  by  individualizing  to  a  pitch 
of  intensity  the  personaHties  of  Macbeth  and  his 
wife.  Or  take  our  own  experience  as  we  arrange 
the  pictures  and  ornaments  in  our  homes  or  plan 
out  the  ensemble  of  our  garden.  Our  instinct 
leads  us  almost  invariably  to  give  piquancy  to  the 
Whole  by  individualizing  some  one  object.  Its 
impression  is,  or  should  be,  enhanced  by  the  sur- 
roundings, while  the  latter  are  more  efficiently 
expressive  through  their  cooperation  with  this 
distinctive  feature.  Or  take  the  example  of  the 
Capitol  in  Washington.  Having  once  seen  and 
enjoyed  the  superb  simplicity  of  its  ensemble, 
could  we  be  satisfied  with  the  combination  with- 
out the  individual  distinction  of  the  dome,  or 
conceive  of  the  latter  without  the  cooperative 
enhancement  of  the  rest  of  the  Unity? 

But  it  is  perhaps  in  pictures  that  the  principle 
of  IndividuaHsm  in  Cooperation  is  most  clearly 
demonstrated.  Shall  we  select  out  of  myriads  of 
examples  the  Marriage  at  Cana  by  Paolo  Veronese, 
which  hangs  in  the  Louvre,  and  is  familiar  through 
photographs?  For  this  is  indeed  a  "colossal  com- 
bination,'' twenty  feet  high  by  thirty  in  width, 
involving  grandiose  architecture  and  thronged 
with  close  upon  a  hundred  figures.  In  such  an 
aggregate  of  forms  and  colors  the  individual 
figure  of  the  Saviour  might  well  be  merged.  But 
the  artist  has  correlated  it  to  the  complexity  of 
the  composition  by  making  the  nimbus-crowned 


220  ART  FOR  LIFERS  SAKE 

head  the  focus  point  both  of  the  main  perspective 
lines  of  the  architecture  and  of  the  lines  of  inclina- 
tion of  the  bodies,  heads  and  limbs  of  a  number 
of  the  other  personages.  The  artist,  in  fact,  has 
effected  a  structural  adjustment  of  the  Individual 
to  the  Whole  Composition. 

Yet  you  can  see  for  yourself  that  the  divine 
idea  of  Christ  is  all  but  completely  lost  in  the 
mundane  magnitude  of  the  scene;  the  spiritual 
idea  of  the  miracle,  swamped  in  the  material  com- 
plexity. The  picture  is,  indeed,  as  heartless  as 
the  composition  of  a  machine,  as  imdisguisedly 
material  as  it  is  customary  to  assume  that  a  busi- 
ness combination  must  be.  For  it  was  Veronese's 
business  to  be  a  "captain"  of  material  organiza- 
tion and  right  bigly  and  superbly  in  this  case  he 
did  his  business. 

But,  for  an  assurance  that  artistic  composition 
need  not  involve  a  smothering  of  the  soul  of  man 
and  the  soul  of  the  facts,  seek  in  another  gallery 
of  the  Louvre  Rembrandt's  Supper  at  Emmaus, 
Here  there  is  no  pageantry  of  splendid  ceremonial, 
for  the  picture  was  not  painted,  as  the  other 
was,  under  an  aristocratic  regime  in  response  to 
the  pomp  of  privilege.  It  was  a  product  of  the 
Holland  democratic  spirit;  in  response  to  the 
national  zeal  to  get  at  the  facts  of  man  and  his 
natural  environment,  which  in  Rembrandt's  own 
case  meant  penetrating  the  material  envelope  and 
reaching  in  to  the  soul  of  facts.    The  Saviour's 


INDIVIDUALISM  —  COLLECTIVISM     221 

mien  carries  no  outward  evidence  of  superiority. 
It  is  that  of  an  everyday  man  in  his  workaday 
guise;  a  plain  man  of  the  people,  not  distinguish- 
able externally  from  his  fellows.  Unless  it  be  for 
his  eyes!  His  eyes  have  the  distant,  steady  vision 
of  those  who  have  looked  into  the  soul  of  things 
or  have  faced  death  without  dismay.  You  may 
note  the  same  vision  in  the  eyes  of  social  workers 
who  have  gone  down,  like  Christ,  into  hell  that 
they  may  better  the  condition  of  humanity;  in 
the  eyes  of  great  surgeons  who  have  penetrated 
the  mystery  of  pain  to  achieve  its  alleviation; 
in  the  eyes  of  firemen  who  have  been  through  the 
flames  for  the  sake  of  others;  in  the  eyes  of 
sailors  and  fishermen,  accustomed  to  the  mystery 
and  vastness  of  the  ocean;  indeed,  in  the  eyes  of 
any  man  or  woman,  who  for  the  time  being  has 
forgotten  self  in  the  absorbed  enthusiasm  for 
bettering  humanity. 

And  in  this  picture  the  Saviour's  figure  is  the 
center  of  light,  which  emanates  from  Himself  and 
irradiates  the  obscurity  of  the  chamber,  touching 
into  varying  degrees  of  prominence  just  those 
parts  of  the  other  figures  which  will  most  efii- 
ciently  enhance  the  expression  of  the  Whole  Com- 
position. For  it  is  not  upon  lines  and  forms  and 
traditional  dogmas  of  arrangement  that  the 
structural  Individualism-in-Unity  of  this  collect- 
ive organization  is  based,  but  upon  what  the 
artists  call  values. 


222  ART  FOR  LIFE'S  SAKE 

Artists  use  the  term  "values'*  to  express  the 
variations  in  the  quahty  and  quantity  of  the  Hght 
that  is  given  off  from  each  and  every  part  of  an 
object.  If  you  think  of  it,  it  is  by  the  hght  on 
certain  parts  of  an  object,  and  the  gradations  of 
more  and  less  light  in  other  parts  and  the  shadows 
on  some,  that  we  distinguish  the  shapes  of  things; 
that  is  to  say  their  individual  forms  and  charac- 
ters. Without  the  varieties  of  values  the  objects 
would  appear  flat  and  tend  to  be  uninteresting. 
In  consequence  of  the  range  of  values  they  acquire 
the  significance  of  actual  bulk  and  substance. 
Carry  this  idea  farther  and  imagine  a  number  of 
objects  within  a  room,  and  it  is  not  difficult  to 
reahze  that  the  variation  of  values  not  only  pro- 
claims the  character  of  each  object  but  also  its 
place  in  the  Wholeness  of  the  room,  its  relation 
to  the  latter  and  to  aU  the  other  constituent 
objects. 

It  is  in  this  use  of  values  that  the  Holland 
artists  of  the  seventeenth  century  excelled.  They 
learned  the  principle  from  nature;  noting  how  the 
light  not  only  brought  out  the  individuality  of 
objects  but  also  tended  to  fuse  their  antagonisms. 
Accordingly  their  best  pictures  are  examples  of 
Organic  Unity,  in  which  every  part  is  given  its 
due  distinction  and  all  are  intimately  related  to 
the  Balanced  Harmony  of  the  Whole. 

This  principle  is  the  secret  of  the  expressiveness 
of  Rembrandt's  picture,  The  Supper  at  Emmaus, 


INDIVIDUALISM  —  COLLECTIVISM     223 

For,  inspired  by  the  source  of  light  in  the  central 
figure,  each  of  the  other  objects  in  the  composi- 
tion reflects  its  own  special  contribution  of  light, 
in  absolute  adjustment  to  the  expression  or,  let 
us  say,  the  Efficiency  of  the  Whole. 

This  composition  by  values,  then,  is  foimded 
on  the  physiology  of  nature.  But,  while  it  lends 
itself  to  a  highly  efficient  rendering  of  the  ma- 
terial aspects  of  life,  as  we  may  see  in  the  case 
of  Frans  Hals,  it  also,  witness  Rembrandt,  lends 
itself,  as  no  other  method  does,  to  the  expres- 
sion of  the  spiritual  that  is  embodied  in  the 
material;  or,  as  in  the  case  of  another  Hollander, 
Jan  Vermeer,  to  the  expression  of  the  kindly  and 
pleasant  reasonableness  that  may  inform  the 
relations  of  everyday  life  and  its  surroundings. 

In  fact,  the  Relativity  of  Values,  as  the  principle 
of  Collective  Organization,  effecting  the  most 
complete  Wholeness,  while  allowing  for  the  highest 
Efficiency  of  the  Individual  parts  and  conducing 
to  the  finest  harmony  between  each  and  all,  is  the 
principle  that  prevails  in  Art,  and  today  is  begin- 
ning to  prevail  in  the  cooperative  organizing  of 
the  Social  Whole.  It  is  the  basis  of  modern 
music,  of  Rodin's  superiority  as  a  sculptor,  Ibsen's 
eminence  as  an  analytical  and  constructive  drama- 
tist, of  what  is  significant  in  fiction,  and  in  the 
art  of  the  surgeon,  the  engineer,  the  educator, 
the  statesman  (when  you  find  him),  the  efficient 
home-maker  and,  indeed,  in  the  work  of  each 


224  ART  FOR  LIFE'S  SAKE 

and  every  man  and  woman,  who  is  attacking  the 
problem  of  Hfe  in  the  Scientific-Artistic  spirit. 
And,  once  more,  because  it  is  all-important  to  the 
ultimate  fulfilment  of  the  Democratic  ideal,  this 
principle  is  not  only  efficient  for  the  material 
combinations  of  life  but  capable  also,  as  no  other 
yet  in  sight,  of  promoting  the  Spiritual  and  Social 
Comradeship  without  which  the  cooperative  or- 
ganization will  be  only  a  machine  without  a  soul. 

Translated  into  still  simpler  terms  of  speech  — 
so  that  even  he  who  does  his  reading,  running, 
may  not  miss  it  —  this  means  that  the  highest 
idea  of  organized  cooperation  whether  in  life  or 
art  is  based  on  the  following  principle.  The  most 
complete  and  efficient  Wholeness  is  attained  by  recog- 
nizing and  giving  coordinate  play  to  the  varying 
values,  spiritual  as  well  as  physical,  of  each  and 
every  Individuality  in  the  Collective  Organization, 

Tending  to  this  consummation  is  the  fact,  told 
me  lately  by  a  civil  engineer.  We  were  fellow- 
travelers  on  an  Atlantic  steamship.  "Has  it  ever 
occurred  to  you,''  he  said,  "as  very  wonderful, 
how  seldom  a  voyage  is  interrupted  through  a 
breakdown  of  the  machinery?"  "The  reason," 
he  continued,  "is  that  no  other  machine  has  been 
so  simplified  as  the  nautical  engine.  It  is  com- 
posed of  very  few  parts,  so  that  they  can  be  made 
as  nearly  perfect  as  possible  and  can  be  adjusted 
to  a  corresponding  degree  of  perfection.  The 
engineer,  listening  to  the  harmony  of  the  engines' 


INDIVIDUALISM  —  COLLECTIVISM     225 

hum,  can  detect  in  an  instant  any  discordant  note 
and  determine  at  once  the  place  and  cause  of 
friction  or  disturbance."  My  companion  added 
that  the  automobile  had  been  brought  almost  to 
an  equivalent  pitch  of  efficiency  and  by  the  same 
means;  indeed,  that  Simplification  is  today  the 
crowning  achievement  of  machine  construction. 

It  does  not  need  a  Gamaliel  of  the  law  to  point 
the  moral  of  this  in  reference  to  our  political  and 
judicial  machinery,  or  a  professor  of  economics  to 
explain  its  analogy  to  Social  and  Industrial 
Organization. 

It  throws  a  new  light  on  the  idea  of  the  "  Sim- 
ple Life."  The  latter  is  often  understood  to 
imply  a  cutting  oneself  off  from  the  fullness  of 
Life.  But  it  should  imply  a  more  intelligent  and 
organized  participation  in  a  well  roimded  and 
complete  life,  which  can  only  be  reaUzed  in  co- 
operation with  one^s  fellows.  The  secret  of  its 
simplification  is  to  be  found  in  the  recognition 
and  adjustment  of  human  values.  I  know  no 
better  example  of  complexity,  thus  ordered  into 
simpleness  by  Scientific-Artistic  Organization, 
than  the  Holland  genre  picture. 


CHAPTER  XXVI 
HARMONY 

HARMONY,  the  third  of  the  principles 
upon  which  artistic  organization  is 
based,  has  aheady  been  anticipated  in 
what  we  have  said  in  the  preceding  chapter 
concerning  ^'values.''  It  implies  the  coordinated 
adjustment  of  partial  similarities  and  differences. 
It  does  not  ignore  discords  but  resolves  them  into 
Harmony.  Take,  for  example,  the  most  elemen- 
tary principle  of  musical  combination,  on  which, 
however,  the  whole  structure  of  Harmony  is 
built.  You  strike  the  common  chord  of  C,  com- 
posed of  the  partial  similarities  of  the  first,  third 
and  fifth  notes  of  the  scale,  and  the  sound  is  har- 
monious. Strike  these  in  combination  with  the 
seventh  and  a  discord  is  introduced;  but  let  the 
seventh  lead  on  to  the  octave  and  immediately 
the  discord  is  resolved,  the  Harmony  recovered. 
To  repeat  the  common  chord  even  with  inversions 
tends  to  monotony;  but  the  occasional  introduc- 
tion of  the  Discord  tends  to  vitaUze  the  expression 
of  the  Harmony.  You  may  say  that  this  is  a 
musical  platitude,  and  it  is;  but  the  analogy  of  it 
to  Life  is  quite  frequently  overlooked. 


HARMONY  227 

In  the  derivation  of  the  word  "harmony"  we 
discover  again  the  old  root  "ar" — fitting,  join- 
ing—  the  root  idea,  as  we  have  seen,  of  "art." 
It  has  become  aspirated  and  produced  the  word 
"harmos,"  which  means  the  act  of  fitting  or  join- 
ing, the  word  which  the  dictionaries  assign  as  the 
origin  of  Harmony.  Meanwhile  it  is  suggestive 
that  "monos"  means  single.  Therefore  it  may 
not  be  altogether  fantastic  to  detect  in  Harmony 
a  combination  of  this  word  with  the  root  "ar." 
This  may  not  suit  the  et)anologist  but  it  exactly 
fits  the  meaning  of  the  word;  the  Union  of  Single^ 
Individualities  into  a  Scheme  of  Relativity. 

The  idea  is  truthfully,  if  vulgarly,  represented 
in  the  old  folk-rhyme  — 

"Jack  Sprat  woiJd  eat  no  fat,  his  wife  would  eat  no  lean, 
And  so  between  the  pair  of  them  they  licked  the  platter 
clean." 

Their  marriage  may  or  may  not  have  been  made 
in  Heaven.  But  it  was  based  on  something  more 
substantial  than  the  iridescent  gossamer  of  a 
golden  dream;  namely,  on  the  recognition  andl 
adjustment  of  their  inherent  differences^  Their 
matrimonial  harmony  would  scarcely  have  been 
as  complete,  if  both  had  liked  fat.  Yet  it  is  a 
common  sentimental  error  to  suppose  that  the 
success  of  marriage  and  of  any  other  cooperative 
imity  depends  upon  similarities  of  taste,  judg- 
ment and  conduct. 


228  ART  FOR  LIFE'S  SAKE 

If  it  were  possible  to  find  any  two  persons  whose 
tastes  were  absolutely  similar  —  a  phenomenon 
almost  impossible  —  it  could  only  be  because  their 
tastes  were  of  a  very  mild  character,  and  not 
developed  much  beyond  the  rudimentary  instincts 
of  Httle  children.  Further,  even  if  their  tastes 
agreed,  it  is  scarcely  conceivable  that  their  separate 
minds  could  reach  the  same  judgments  and  base 
upon  the  latter  the  same  conduct.  If  two  people, 
united  in  cooperative  Wholeness,  profess  such 
unanimity,  we  suspect  at  once  and  with  justifica- 
tion that  their  minds  are  imitative  and  their  con- 
duct a  mere  habit  of  convention.  In  fact,  that 
pretty  conceit  of  lovers,  "two  souls  with  but  a 
single  thought,  two  hearts  that  beat  as  one,"  was 
the  contrivance  of  a  man-poet  to  rivet  on  woman 
the  desirabiHty  of  always  thinking  as  her  man 
does  and  subjecting  her  conduct  to  his.  Marriage, 
indeed,  under  this  fallacy  of  understanding  was 
rarely,  if  ever,  a  Harmony.  It  was  either  the  sub- 
jugation of  one  will  to  the  other's,  or  else  the  tacit 
or  expressed  agreement  that  the  man  should  go 
one  way  and  bury  himseK  in  his  own  interests 
while  the  woman  followed  separately  her  own 
inclinations,  or  else  it  was  a  continual  cat-and-dog 
fight,  discreditable  and  demoralizing  to  both 
parties  and  ruinous  to  the  healthy  growth  of  their 
children.  In  business  such  a  condition  of  affairs 
could  only  produce  bankruptcy,  so  the  man  has 
done  in  that,  what,  if  the  truth  is  to  be  told,  he 


HARMONY  229 

would  fain  do  in  his  home.  He  has  formed  his 
own  judgments  and  compelled  those  about  him 
to  shape  their  conduct  to  his  views.  In  fact,  the 
principle  of  life  has  been  subordination,  whereas 
today,  in  the  light  of  the  Democratic  ideal, 
coordination  is  the  goal.  And  this  impHes  of 
necessity  the  recognition  and  adjustment  of 
differences. 

For,  as  the  artificial  barriers  are  being  torn 
down,  so  that  we  can  see  more  clearly  and  freely 
and  begin  to  comprehend  the  Wholeness  of  Life, 
we  realize  that  there  are  natural  differences; 
differences  of  sex,  differences  between  man  and 
man  and  between  woman  and  woman;  differences 
that  have  their  root  in  the  infinite  variety  of  the 
physical,  sensational,  emotional,  mental  and 
spiritual  elements  in  human  nature;  in  fact,  that 
Difference  and  not  similarity  is  the  first  charac- 
"^eristic  of  Human  Life.  Nor  is  it  otherwise  in 
the  lower  levels  of  the  scheme  of  creation,  where 
voUtion  grows  less  and  less  until  it  disappears. 
For  while  scientists  may  classify  the  exuberant 
differences  of  nature  into  this  or  that  genus, 
they  admit  the  looseness  of  the  classification  and 
the  endless  variety  even  in  the  species,  so  that 
no  two  leaves  upon  the  same  tree  are  exactly 
similar. 

The  questions  accordingly  arise:  are  we  going 
to  ignore  this  principle  of  difference  and  continue 
the  old  aristocratic  idea  of  subordinating  every- 


230  ART  FOR  LIFERS  SAKE 

thing  and  everybody  to  the  one  man  or  one  woman 
rule?  Or  are  we  proposing  to  admit  not  only  the 
fact  of  differences  but  its  essential  value,  and  learn 
by  adjustment  to  promote  the  fuller  Harmony  of 
the  Whole  Life? 

I  suppose  nobody,  as  a  matter  of  Beauty,  pre- 
fers the  uniformity  of  a  rectangular  reservoir, 
bounded  by  concrete  walls,  to  the  natural  irregu- 
larity of  a  lake.  Nor,  even  in  the  matter  of  util- 
ity, is  the  old-fashioned  reservoir  sizing  up  to  the 
larger  needs  of  modern  cities.  The  growth  of 
the  latter  demands  fuller  and  more  comprehensive 
schemes  of  water  supply,  so  that  engineers  today 
are  throwing  dams  across  valleys  and  converting 
the  latter  into  lakes,  bounded  by  the  natural 
irregularities  of  the  surrounding  hills.  Thus, 
while  organizing  nature  for  man's  larger  needs, 
the  scientific-artistic  genius  of  the  engineer  is 
conforming  more  closely  than  before  to  nature's 
plan. 

The  analogy  of  this  to  the  organizing  of  human 
life  is  plain.     It  is  not  by  shaping  and  arranging 
men  and  women  into  the  artificial  uniformity  of 
f      concrete  walls  that  we  are  going  to  enhance  the 
Utility  and  Beauty  of  Life;  but,  firstly,  by  per- 
mitting each  individual  to  evolve  naturally  his 
■      or  her  own  utmost  value;  and,  secondly,  by  dis- 
l       covering  an  adjustment  whereby  each  may  be- 
\      come  a  quota  in  promoting  the  Harmony  of  the 
Whole. 


HARMONY  231 

\/  It  is  the  recognition  of  this  principle  that  con- 
demns the  present  form  of  trades-imions.  The 
latter,  by  their  negation  of  the  principle  of  individ- 
ual values,  achieve  merely  an  artificial  unity,  that 
may  seciure  within  its  ranks  the  agreement  imposed 
by  subordination,  but  does  not  attain  the  Har- 
mony which  can  result  alone  from  Coordination. 
It  is  at  best  a  temporary  expedient,  adopted  in 
necessary  self-defense  against  the  equally  artificial 
combination  of  capital.  For  capital  also  has 
found  it  expedient  to  ignore  the  natural  functions 
of  individuals  and  to  lump  itself  into  a  syndicated 
force,  without  conscience  or  feeling. 

Indeed,  the  very  use  of  the  words,  capital  and 
labor,  is  significant.  Like  "supply  and  demand" 
and  other  such  collective  abstractions,  they  are 
the  product  of  a  poHtical  economy  that  is  still 
under  the  sway  of  the  class-idea  of  society,  and 
which  views  hiunanity  not  as  individuals  but  in 
the  mass.  It  has  tried  to  systematize  human  rela- 
tions, whereas  the  modem  science  of  economics, 
based  on  the  physiology  ol  hiunan  life,  aims  to 
organize  them.  For  today  the  economist  realizes 
that  he  is  not  dealing  with  inorganic  matter  to  be 
classified,  tabulated  and  card-catalogued  to  suit 
his  own  theories,  nor  even  with  forms  of  life  that 
are  unendowed  with  sensations  and  volitions,  but 
with  hving  growths,  involving  infinite  differentia- 
tions of  value;  each  having  the  will  to  Hve,  and 
needing  the  freest  opportunity  of  self-realization 


232  ART  FOR  LIFE'S  SAKE 

in  the  interest  of  the  community  as  well  as  of  itself. 
In  fact,  the  aim  to  strive  for  is  Organic  Wholeness, 
founded  upon  the  active  Harmony  of  each  and  every 
one  of  the  parts. 

This  idea  is  spreading  and  is  being  practically 
tested  with  admirable  results  in  many  industrial 
organizations  which  are  partaking  more  and  more 
of  a  cooperative  character.  It  is  also  being 
technically  recognized  as  a  principle  of  practical 
value  in  the  welfare  departments  that  are  coming 
to  be  considered  a  necessary  feature  in  any  up-to- 
date  establishment;  although  these  are  in  the 
nature  of  palliations  of  the  old  system  rather  than 
actual  organization.  Meanwhile,  every  step  in 
the  direction  of  recognizing  Human  Values  counts 
for  something  and  is  to  be  encouraged,  provided 
it  be  not  regarded  as  an  end  in  itself,  but  only  as 
the  means  to  a  fuller  and  more  efficient  Coopera- 
tion in  the  Harmony  of  the  Whole  Life. 

This  great  end  can  only  be  gradually  evolved, 
as  the  result  of  a  fuller  and  wider  Social  Sense  on 
the  part  of  the  community;  and  to  promote  such 
a  sense  should  be  one  of  the  chief  objects  of 
education. 

One  means  by  which  it  may  be  taught  is  through 
the  analogy  of  Wholeness  and  Harmony  in  works 
of  Art.  But  it  will  not  suffice  to  familiarize  the 
child  with  photographs,  for  example,  of  the  great 
works  of  architecture  or  of  the  world's  acknowl- 
edged masterpieces  of  painting;  still  less  to  cram 


HARMONY  233 

his  or  her  mind  with  a  compendium  of  the  history 
of  Art.  The  Hving  relation  of  these  things  to 
the  child^s  consciousness  of  growing  Hfe  must  be 
estabHshed.  We  must  make  it  plain,  as  I  have 
said  before,  that  artists  are  men  like  ourselves, 
stirred  by  the  same  instinct  of  betterment,  and 
working  toward  the  same  higher  end  of  Beauty 
and  by  the  same  means,  only  with  a  freer  sense  of 
Beauty  and  a  less  impeded  opportunity  of  achiev- 
ing it.  Nor  will  it  be  enough  that  only  the 
teacher  of  art  shall  illustrate  the  principles  of 
Wholeness  and  Harmony,  and  show  the  child  how 
these  are  as  necessary  to  the  organization  of  Life 
as  to  that  of  a  work  of  Art.  The  same  principles 
must  be  enforced  and  made  pleasant  and  familiar 
in  every  department  of  the  curriculum.  In  fact, 
a  living  comprehension  of  the  meaning  and  the 
Value  of  the  Arts  must  become  the  foundation  of 
all  training  in  the  Art  of  Teaching. 

Our  "normal"  schools  are  so-called  because 
they  are  supposed  to  be  established  on  laws  and 
principles,  and  to  conform  to  types  and  standards 
of  education.  Yet  at  present,  if  I  mistake  not, 
they  treat  as  incidental  rather  than  fundamental, 
the  laws  and  principles,  t3^es  and  standards  that 
are  the  foundation  of  all  organized  human  life, 
namely,  those  which  are  exemplified  with  such 
abundance  of  illustration  and  so  clearly  and 
suggestively  in  works  of  Art.  Presumably  the 
normal  school  is  what  it  is  in  consequence  of  what 


234  ART  FOR  LIFE'S  SAKE 

the  State  Committee  is.  The  latter,  for  the 
most  part,  is  composed  of  earnest  and  public- 
spirited  citizens,  who  believe  in  education  as  the 
bulwark  of  our  Democracy,  but  have  not  had 
the  opportunity  to  make  a  thorough  study  of  the 
subject.  Or,  if  they  have,  not  on  the  Scientific- 
Artistic  lines  which  today  are  becoming  the  only 
efficient  ones  for  the  promotion  of  Industrial  and 
Social  Organization.  They  too,  fail  to  compre- 
hend the  true  Relation  of  Art  to  Life. 

But  it  is  only  a  question  of  time  and  no  very 
long  time  either,  before  it  will  be  realized  that  the 
true  foundation  of  all  Education,  as  of  all  Organ- 
ized Life,  is  Art.  Then  the  normality  of  the 
Normal  School  will  be  estabHshed  upon  the  prin- 
ciples of  Art:  Selection  and  Organization;  the 
latter  in  accordance  with  the  principles  of  Fitness, 
Unity,  Harmony,  Balance  and  Rhythm.  For 
this  is  the  one  and  only  recipe  for  Scientific- 
Artistic  Organization,  in  any  Department  of  Life 
whatsoever. 

When  the  principles  of  Art  are  made  the  basis 
of  all  Education,  the  latter  will  come  to  be  less 
like  the  famous,  or  infamous.  Bed  of  Procrustes, 
on  which  that  Attic  bandit  laid  his  victims, 
stretching  the  limbs  of  those  who  were  too  short 
to  fit  it  and  lopping  a  bit  off  the  legs  of  those 
who  were  too  long. 


CHAPTER  XXVII 
BALANCE  AND  POISE 

BALANCE  is  an  instinct  of  human  nature, 
and  the  artist,  employing  the  principle 
of  Balance  in  the  organizing  of  his  work 
of  Art,  is  but  responding  to  a  human  need.  If 
our  usual  center  of  gravity  be  disturbed,  as  aboard 
ship,  we  instinctively  adjust  ourselves  to  the 
change  or  suffer  the  consequences  of  being  at 
variance  with  natural  conditions.  If  a  strain  is 
put  upon  one  of  our  arms,  as  in  Ufting  a  heavy 
bucket,  we  instinctively  put  a  strain  on  the  other 
arm  by  Hfting  it  free  of  the  body.  If  we  swing 
our  arms  as  we  walk,  instinctively  the  inclination 
of  the  right  arm  follows  that  of  the  left  leg,  and 
vice  versa.  If  we  stoop  forward  to  pick  something 
from  the  floor,  we  maintain  our  Balance  by  ex- 
tending our  other  hand  backward.  In  fact,  the 
Principle  of  Balance,  as  those  of  Wholeness  and 
Harmony,  is  not  a  matter  of  choice  but  of  physio- 
logical necessity,  to  interfere  with  which  breeds 
trouble. 

The  artist,  in  consequence,  accepts  this  prin- 
ciple of  necessity  and,  as  usual,  raises  it  to  a 
higher  capacity  of  efficiency  or  expression  in  his 


236  ART  FOR  LIFE'S  SAKE 

work  of  art,  illustrating  thereby  its  esthetic  and 
ethical  value  in  the  Organization  of  Life  as  well 
as  of  Art.    For,  when  the  principle  of  Balance  is 
analyzed,  it  is  found  to  involve  another  applica- 
tion of  the  law  that  all  Wholeness  is  composed  of 
an  adjustment  of  partial  similarities  and  contrasts. 
It  is  concerned,  however,  chiefly  with  large  rela- 
tions. 
/      Suppose,  for  example,   a  dozen  young  men, 
/     bunched  close  together  in  the  dash  of  a  hundred 
/      yards'  race.    A  common  momentum  impels  each 
\      individual  and  the  strain  of  all  their  bodies  is  in 
\     one  direction.    But  this  does  not  distress  us,  as 
we  watch  the  race;   indeed  it  is  a  source  of  the 
keenest  exhilaration,  since  for  the  time  being  all 
our  interest  is  solely  absorbed  in  the  outcome  of 
the  race. 

But  let  an  artist  undertake  to  represent  this 
scene.  Immediately  he  will  organize  the  group 
in  relation  to  its  environment.  His  interest, 
therefore,  must  extend  around  the  group  of 
runners;  he  must  consider  them  in  relation  to 
the  Wholeness  of  the  picture.  If  he  does  not,  the 
group  is  likely  to  have  the  appearance  of  running 
out  of  the  picture,  or  of  having  been  propelled 
by  a  momentum  over  which  it  has  no  control. 
It  is  necessary,  therefore,  that  he  adjust  the  group 
very  carefully  to  the  area  of  his  canvas;  placing 
it  not  too  high  or  too  low  or  too  much  to  one  side, 
but  just  where  it  will  best  hold  its  own  within 


BALANCE  AND  POISE  237 

the  composition.  Again,  to  offset  the  excessive 
inclination  in  one  direction,  he  may  find  it  expe- 
dient to  introduce  the  contrast  of  horizontal  and, 
possibly,  vertical  lines.  By  thus  correlating  the 
group  to  its  environment  and  balancing  his  com- 
position he  has  not  behttled  the  exhilaration  of 
the  scene;  but  on  the  contrary  has  enhanced  it, 
because  he  has  imported  into  the  scene  large 
elemental  principles.  The  picture,  in  conse- 
quence, is  not  only  a  record  of  a  particular  occa- 
sion, but  suggestive  also  of  the  imiversal  joy  in 
eager,  vigorous  life. 

Suppose,  again,  that  a  sculptor  wishes  to  repre- 
sent an  athlete  in  the  act  of  throwing  a  weight. 
As  compared  with  a  painter,  he  works  under  a 
limitation;  for  he  has  no  scene  outside  the  figure 
to  which  he  can  correlate  the  latter.  Its  Balance 
must  be  secured  independently  of  outside  help, 
solely  by  the  correlation  established  between  the 
various  parts  of  the  figiure  itself.  This  wiU  demand 
the  nicest  adjustment;  for,  in  the  first  place,  the 
position  of  all  the  parts  must  represent  a  con- 
certed action  and,  secondly,  no  one  of  the  parts 
must  carry  its  share  of  the  action  too  far,  other- 
wise it  will  defeat  the  suggestion  of  force  that  the 
sculptor  wishes  the  whole  composition  to  express. 
Therefore  he  must  discover  at  just  what  point 
of  extension  or  contraction  of  the  muscles  he  will 
represent  the  action  of  the  body  and  hmbs.  If 
he  strain  the  body  and  limbs  to  extremity,  the 


238  ART  FOR  LIFE'S  SAKE 

vitality  of  the  action  will  be  exhausted;  while, 
if  the  strain  be  not  sufficiently  developed,  the 
action  will  appear  as  if  it  were  not  fairly  started. 
In  each  case  there  will  be  a  suggestion  of  inherent 
lack  of  vigor.  Accordingly  the  sculptor  has 
learned  another  Principle  of  Balance:  that  to 
secure  a  balance  between  the  parts  and  the  whole 
of  his  composition  in  the  interests  of  efficiency  he 
must  preserve  the  elasticity  of  the  action,  allow 
for  the  rebound  as  well  as  for  the  thrust  of  the 
muscles;  in  a  word,  maintain  the  growth  of  the 
action  and  the  suggestion  of  its  recreating  self  by 
self. 

It  is  a  grave  symptom  in  an  individuaFs  life 
when  he  finds  his  body  losing  its  elasticity  and 
resihence;  a  graver  still,  when  his  mind  becomes 
similarly  affected.  And  it  is  a  grave  symptom 
in  the  collective  Life  of  the  Community,  when 
the  relations  between  individuals  are  strained  to 
the  utmost,  when  whole  masses  of  people  are  con- 
demned to  actions  that  sap  the  elasticity  of  their 
growth  and  upset  the  Balance  necessary  to  self- 
recreation.  That  it  is  a  symptom  of  our  day, 
both  in  the  hfe  of  the  Individual  and  in  that  of 
the  Community,  needs  no  prophet  to  proclaim. 
As  a  nation  we  are  hampering  self -growth  by  the 
extremity  of  the  strain  that  we  lay  upon  ourselves 
and  one  another.  There  is  scarcely  a  department 
of  Life,  whether  it  have  to  do  with  the  Needs  or 
the  Desires  of  Life,  which  does  not  contribute 


I 


BALANCE  AND  POISE  239 

to  exhaustion  rather  than  to  conservation.  And 
this  in  respect,  not  only  of  natural  resources  but 
of  the  most  precious  of  all  our  resources,  the 
National  Character,  the  National  Ideal,  the  Hope 
and  Spirit  of  this  new  race  in  its  Democratic 
heritage  of  Life,  Liberty  and  the  Pursuit  of 
Happiness. 

It  is  here  that  the  idea  of  poise  touches  that 
of  Balance.  Balance  is  the  economic  principle; 
poise,  the  state  of  mind  that  conduces  to  and 
grows  out  of  it.  When  amidst  the  flux  and  stress 
of  circumstances  we  come  upon  really  great  men 
or  women,  we  find  that  poise  is  the  essence  of  their 
greatness.  They  are  characterized  by  a  habit 
of  weighing  and  balancing,  by  a  fine  sense  of 
values,  by  a  noble  capacity  to  adjust  their  conduct 
to  the  largest  and  most  vital  relations  of  Life. 
They  are  not  the  ones  who  lose  their  resihence 
and  become  "set  in  their  ways.''  They  grow 
continually,  yet  not  as  the  jungle  grows,  choking 
its  wholesomeness  with  excess  of  vitality,  but  as 
the  oaks  of  our  temperate  zone,  which  rise  clear 
of  the  tangle  of  smaller  growths,  stand  square  to 
the  four  winds  and  lift  their  wealth  of  foliage 
freely  and  abundantly  to  the  heavens. 

How  ignoble  by  comparison  the  condition  of 
hustle  for  the  sake  of  hustle,  and  the  idea  that 
progressiveness  consists  in  jumping  at  everything 
that  is  new,  because  it  is  new,  and  then  dropping 
it  as  soon  as  something  newer  appears  on  the 


240  ART  FOR  LIFE'S   SAKE 

horizon!  How  futile  for  healthy  growth  is  the 
attitude  of  mind  which  is  expressed  in  the  phrase : 
"I  am  crazy  about  this  or  that";  which  can  be 
stimulated  only  by  excess  of  sensations  and  needs 
the  stimulus  in  continually  stronger  doses.  How 
much,  for  example,  of  what  we  crave  as  reading 
matter  is  either  an  intoxicant  or  a  narcotic  for 
overstimulation ! 

It  is  indeed  a  grave  problem  how  to  promote 
the  wholesome  growth  of  children  whose  lot  is 
cast  in  big  cities.  In  all  directions  their  impres- 
sionable minds  are  confronted  with  the  evidence 
not  of  Harmony  and  Balance,  but  of  discord  and 
excess.  Their  very  eye-sense  is  apt  to  be  robbed 
of  its  fineness  and  habituated  to  vulgarity.  For 
nowhere  has  the  unbridled  lust  and  sordidness  of 
excessive  individuality  been  so  rampant;  dis- 
figuring at  every  step  the  achievements  of  the  few 
in  the  direction  of  City  Betterment  and  Beauty. 
There  is  probably  not  a  street  in  any  city  of  the 
world  so  flamboyantly  vulgar,  so  sordidly  meretri- 
cious, trumpery  and  defiant  of  decency  —  in  the 
sense  of  what  is  becoming  to  a  great  metropohs 
—  as  New  York's  "Great  White  Way."  Yet  it 
has  been  so  heralded  throughout  the  country  and 
held  up  as  a  miracle  of  beauty,  that  it  has  passed 
into  a  household  word,  and  this  medley  of  tawdry 
saloons,  poor  shops  and  palatial  hotels  and  resorts 
for  guzzhng;  this  street,  shabby  in  the  dayhght 
and  at  night  flaunting  electric  signs  of  whisky, 


BALANCE  AND  POISE  241 

chewing  gum  and  corsets  against  the  sky,  has 
become  as  a  Mecca  to  the  imagination  and  foot- 
steps of  Americans  from  all  parts  of  the  States. 
A  pretty  comment  truly  on  the  efiSciency  of  our 
Education! 

Yet  in  New  York,  no  less  than  in  other  cities, 
young  men  and  women  are  developing  in  fine  and 
healthy  growth.  And  whenever  you  come  upon 
them,  you  find  they  have  acquired  the  habit  of 
weighing  and  balancing.  They  have  some  critical 
sense  of  values  which  makes  for  poise.  It  is  to 
be  feared,  however,  that  they  are  in  the  minority; 
and,  if  this  be  true,  it  is  because  for  the  most  part 
such  a  habit  of  not  being  swayed  by  noise  and 
show  has  been  bred  into  them  in  their  homes.  On 
the  other  hand,  if  the  majority  are  otherwise, 
indifferent  to  choiceness  in  their  own  lives,  ignorant 
of  their  duty  toward  the  community  in  the  way  of 
working  for  the  Harmony  of  the  Whole  Life  and  of 
helping  to  adjust  the  Balance  between  man  and 
man,  is  it  not  because  these  principles  of  true 
citizenship  are  omitted  from  the  curriculum  of 
the  schools?  The  present  one  is  more  adapted 
to  acquisition  of  information  than  to  digestion 
and  assimilation  of  what  is  essential;  more  cal- 
culated to  promote  alertness  —  excellent  in  its 
degree  —  than  the  crowning  habit  of  a  properly 
Balanced  Whole  Life  —  Poise. 


242  ART  FOR  LIFE'S  SAKE 

In  promoting  a  sense  of  the  value  of  poise  or 
Balance  in  relation  to  Fitness  and  Harmony  of  the 
Whole,  educators  are  beginning  to  reahze  the  part 
that  may  be  played  by  encouraging  the  child's 
dramatic  instinct. 

By  no  means  every  child  is  bom  with  the  equip- 
ment that  wiU  enable  it  to  develop  into  an  actor 
or  actress.  But  almost  all  are  bom  with  the 
dramatic  instinct.  In  the  very  games  which 
they  invent,  they  play  at  make-believe,  imagine 
scenes  and  enact  their  parts.  The  educator,  there- 
fore, ever  watchful  of  the  child's  instinct  as  a 
source  of  self-growth,  avails  himself  of  the  dra- 
matic instinct  and  seeks  to  organize  it. 

In  this  connection  it  is  a  pleasure  to  pay  tribute 
to  the  work  that  Mrs.  Emma  Sheridan  Fry  has 
accompHshed  in  New  York.  She  began  with  some 
of  the  children  of  the  East  Side,  as  dramatic 
director  of  the  "Children's  Educational  Theatre" 
under  the  auspices  of  "The  Educational  Alliance" 
and  achieved  results  so  remarkable  that  their 
evident  value  is  gradually  being  appreciated. 
Before  her  marriage,  as  Emma  Sheridan,  she  had 
made  her  mark  on  the  professional  stage.  But 
this  does  not  explain  the  secret  of  her  power. 
For  the  principle  of  stage  instruction  is  to  impose 
on  the  student  certain  rules  and  formulas  of  voice- 
production,  gesture  and  so  forth.  Mrs.  Fry,  how- 
ever, helps  the  children  to  evolve  their  dramatic 
ability  out  of  themselves.     Moreover,  the  play- 


BALANCE  AND  POISE  243 

producer  of  the  stage  seeks  to  subordinate  the  will 
and  the  action  of  all  the  players  to  his  own  individ- 
ual conception  of  the  play's  requirements.  Mrs. 
Fry,  on  the  contrary,  trains  the  children  them- 
selves to  coordinate  their  own  individuaHties  to 
the  Fitness,  Harmony  and  Balance  of  the  Whole. 
She,  in  fact,  uses  acting,  as  I  have  described  other 
teachers  using  drawing;  not  as  an  end  in  itself 
but  as  a  means  of  self-growth.  It  becomes  a 
source  of  recreation  in  the  truest  sense,  namely, 
that  it  helps  the  child  in  its  growth  of  recreating 
self  by  self. 

Those  who  have  watched  her  work  testify  to 
the  Beauty  that  it  has  brought  into  the  children's 
lives  and  I  can  add  my  own  testimony  to  the 
Beauty  of  the  result,  as  exhibited  in  the  perform- 
ance. My  appreciation  of  the  value  of  her  system 
is  the  greater,  since  aU  my  life  I  have  at  intervals 
trained  young  people  and  older  ones  in  dramatic 
representations.  But  I  have  done  this  according 
to  the  old  method  of  showing  them  what  they 
should  do  and  how  to  do  it;  by  subordination 
instead  of  coordination;  by  the  arbitrary  method 
instead  of  the  natural  one  of  self-reaHzation. 

Nor  does  her  system  tend  to  encourage  the 
children  to  wish  to  become  professional  actors 
and  actresses  any  more  than  the  natural  system 
of  teaching  drawing  tends  to  multiply  professional 
painters.  It  is  merely  organizing  for  greater 
Efficiency  of  Beauty  one  of  the  instincts  of  the 


244  ART  FOR  LIFE'S  SAKE 

child,  which  in  after  years,  as  I  have  seen  over 
and  over  again  in  my  experience,  will  be  outgrown 
or  will  develop  indirectly  into  some  other  channel. 
Meanwhile,  I  hear  a  reader  say,  "I  thoroughly 
beUeve  in  school  dramatics  as  a  means  of  recrea- 
tion." But  how  do  you  encourage  it?  Is  it  by  the 
usual  sterile  method  of  imposing  your  directions 
upon  the  children,  or  by  leaving  them  alone  to  do 
the  best  they  can  for  themselves?  I  have  seen 
the  results  of  the  latter  and  they  are  worse  than 
those  of  the  former.  For  it,  at  least,  produced 
an  artificial  Wholeness  of  Fitness,  Harmony  and 
Balance  and  taught  the  value  of  thoroughness,  to 
promote  efficiency.  But  the  result  of  leaving  the 
child,  unaided,  to  its  own  unorganized  efforts,  is 
often  pitiable.  It  encourages  the  notion  of  "good- 
enough"  and  reduces  the  recreation  to  a  mere 
pastime,  instead  of  Hfting  it,  with  increased  hap- 
piness and  value  to  the  children,  into  a  source 
of  true  recreation.  It  is  entirely  unscientific  and 
inartistic,  for  it  leaves  the  natural  instinct  to 
grope  and  straggle  instead  of  helping  it  to  organize 
itself  into  healthy,  purposeful  and  efficient  growth. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII 
RHYTHM 

THE  essence  of  rhythm  is  accented  move- 
ment. Its  principle  is  regular  recur- 
rence but  not  mere  repetition;  for  it  is 
quickened  into  finer  life  by  a  regularly  recurring 
accent.  We  carry  within  us  the  secret  of  its  vital 
quahty  in  the  circulation  of  our  blood  that  yields 
the  pulse  beats  in  rhythmic  sequence,  so  that  the 
use  of  rhythm  is  an  instinct. 

Every  child  declares  its  possession  of  the  instinct 
when  it  puts  its  feet  in  motion  to  the  music  of  the 
street  piano.  It  stops  its  spasmodic  running  or 
desultory  walking  and  regulates  its  steps  to  the 
accent  of  the  tune;  and  the  magic  of  the  organized 
movement  passes  from  the  feet  through  the  legs 
and  sets  the  body  swaying  to  the  beat  and  stimu- 
lates the  sensations  of  the  brain,  until  the  child's 
whole  nature  is  enhanced  in  the  joy  of  organized 
impulse. 

Or  reckon  the  young  man's  Joy  of  Life  as  he  does 
his  share  in  the  crew  of  an  eight-oared  boat.  It 
is  much  to  be  part  of  a  living  Whole,  animated 
with  Balanced  and  Harmonious  action;  but  the 
glory  of  the  sensation  is  in  the  Rhythmic  move- 


246  ART  FOR  LIFE'S  SAKE 

ment:  the  catch  of  the  oar  as  it  grips  the  water, 
the  grim  pull-through  and  the  recovery  of  the 
hands  as  they  are  carried  forward  and  then  the 
body's  forward  movement  of  suspended  force. 
The  action  throughout  is  one  of  measured  master- 
fulness, but  it  is  the  accent  of  the  catch  and  the 
recovery  that  lifts  it  to  the  highest  pitch  of  physi- 
cal exaltation.  Who  that  has  known  it  can  con- 
ceive of  grander  physical  sensation?  One  can  get 
something  of  it  as  he  pulls  alone  in  a  racing  skiff; 
more  of  it  in  a  two-oared  boat;  more  still  in  a  four- 
oared,  but  I  instanced  the  eight-oared  boat  because 
that  represents  the  largest  crew  of  usual  experi- 
ence. And  it  is  through  sharing  the  rhythmic 
impulse  with  as  many  as  possible  that  one's  own 
individual  sensation  is  most  highly  exalted. 

And  for  efficiency  of  rowing,  especially  over  a 
long  course,  we  are  all  agreed,  I  beUeve,  that 
nothing  can  match  this  accented  method.  For  it 
has  not  always  and  everywhere  been  in  vogue. 
Many  years  ago  I  recall  a  crew  from  this  side  of 
the  Atlantic  visiting  the  EngHsh  Thames  to  race 
against  one  of  the  rhythmically  trained  crews. 
The  visitors  started  off  at  a  tremendous  cUp; 
their  oars  flashing  in  and  out  of  the  water  in  regular 
but  not  accented  movement;  the  bodies  of  the 
men  swinging  in  rapid  repetition.  A  minute  had 
scarcely  elapsed  before  their  boat  was  ahead, 
and  a  few  minutes  more  showed  it  clear  of  its  rival, 
and  the  interval  steadily  increasing.    It  looked  as 


RHYTHM  247 

if  the  race  were  over.  But  gradually  the  accented 
catch  and  recovery  of  the  other  style  began  to  tell. 
Inch  by  inch  the  home  boat  began  to  creep  up; 
lessening  with  resistless  impetus  the  interval  of 
daylight.  Now  its  bow  had  nosed  up  to  the  stem 
of  the  other;  and  hand  over  hand  began  to  draw 
alongside,  until  the  bows  of  both  were  on  a  level. 
Ye  gods  and  little  fishes!  what  a  disturbance  of 
old  Thames's  repose,  as  it  was  churned  into 
tumult  by  the  quick  dash  of  one  set  of  oars  and 
swept  into  eddies  by  the  slower,  rhythmic  beat  of 
the  other.  Yet  the  chance  of  parallel  comparison 
was  brief.  Resistlessly  the  home  crew  forged 
ahead,  until  the  original  position  of  the  boats  was 
reversed  and  the  race  ended  in  a  procession.  It 
was  a  triumph  not  of  the  EngHshmen  but  their 
method.  It  afforded  one  out  of  innumerable 
illustrations  which  could  be  cited  of  the  superiority 
of  the  Rhythmic  Principle,  in  its  effect  both  upon 
the  Mechanics  and  the  Spirit  of  Collective  Effort, 
as  compared  with  that  of  mere  repetition,  however 
spirited  and  vigorous. 

But  let  us  interrupt  the  consideration  of  Rhythm 
in  relation  to. Life  and  note  its  apphcation  in  some 
of  the  Arts.  Its  effect,  wherever  it  is  introduced, 
is  to  render  the  composition  more  elastic,  more 
fluid,  and  to  unite  all  the  parts  into  a  more  living 
harmony.  Before  we  analyze  this  quality  in 
pictures,  suppose  for  a  moment  we  think  of  the 
ocean  at  rest.    We  know,  as  a  fact,  that  the  water 


248  ART  FOR  LIFE'S  SAKE 

is  elastic  and  that  its  cohering  parts  move  in 
harmony  with  the  attraction  of  the  moon.  But 
we  can  feel  more  fully  the  elasticity  and  fluidity  of 
the  ocean  and  the  living  character  of  its  Harmony 
when  its  surface  is  threaded  with  the  successive 
rise  and  fall  of  waves,  as  they  course  one  another 
in  natural  Rhythms.  A  quaHty  as  of  life  has  been 
imparted  to  the  water;  moreover,  because  of  the 
rhythmic  sequence  of  the  waves  the  sense  of  life 
in  the  water  is  enhanced.  To  our  imagination  it 
is  more  actually  alive  than,  for  example,  the  soHd 
plunge  of  a  waterfall. 

Or  again,  think  of  a  sky,  barred  with  layer  upon 
layer  of  cirrus  clouds.  In  this  case  we  will  suppose 
that  the  clouds  do  not  seem  to  be  moving,  yet  the 
natural  rhythm  of  their  curling  masses  conveys  a 
sense  of  movement  and  in  consequence  the  sugges- 
tion to  our  imagination  of  pulsating,  elemental  Hfe. 

Now  it  is  from  the  hint  of  nature's  Rhythms 
that  the  artist  quickens  the  Hving  element  in  his 
composition.  It  matters  not  whether  the  latter 
present  a  group  of  figures  actually  in  movement  or 
figures  or  objects  in  repose.  For  rhythm  is  not 
the  same  as  action  nor  necessarily  connected  with 
movement;  it  is  something  interwoven  with  the 
composition  or,  if  you  will,  interpenetrating  it, 
with  the  effect  that  a  liveHer,  more  living,  sense 
of  Harmony  is  produced. 

We  may  take  as  an  example  of  the  Rhythm  of 
moving  figures  the  frieze  which  a  Greek  sculptor 


RHYTHM  249 

designed  to  embellish  the  walls  of  the  Parthenon. 
It  represents  a  procession  of  youths  on  horseback 
and  figures  afoot,  bound  for  the  altar  of  the  virgin 
goddess,  Athene.  The  action  of  the  horses  and 
■figures  varies,  but  there  is  no  suggestion  of  confu- 
sion or  irregularity  of  movement,  as  there  will  be 
in  a  crowd  which,  though  it  is  moved  by  a  common 
purpose,  is  not  marching  in  step.  Moreover,  a 
subtler  principle  than  that  of  keeping  time  with 
their  feet  links  together  the  Variety  in  Unity  of  this 
procession.  It  is  that  of  Rhythm.  You  will  note 
in  the  composition  a  succession  of  curving  inclina- 
tions in  the  movement  of  the  forms;  no  two  alike, 
but  all  suggesting  a  sequence  of  accented  flow,  such 
as  differentiates  and  yet  harmonizes  the  waves  of 
the  ocean.  The  effect  of  this  Rhythm  in  the  case 
of  the  frieze  is  to  unite  the  actions  of  the  young 
forms  in  a  Commimity  of  Spiritual  Enthusiasm. 

Or,  for  an  instance  of  Rhythm  appHed  to  com- 
position of  static  calm,  turn  to  a  photograph  of 
Michelangelo's  Tomb  of  Lorenzo  de'  Medici. 
Here  we  find  examples  both  of  formal  and  of  fluid 
Rhythm.  Study  the  formal  Rhythm  in  the 
architectural  features  of  the  background  and 
sarcophagus;  the  Rhythmic  repetition  of  vertical 
and  horizontal  lines,  relieved  of  monotony  by  the 
variety  of  their  lengths,  the  planes  they  occupy  and 
the  functions  they  perform.  Note  also  how  the 
formahty  of  the  architecture  is  alleviated  by  the 
various  bands  of  Rhythmically  repeated  ornament. 


250  ART  FOR  LIFE'S  SAKE 

Further,  observe  how  the  curve  of  the  sarcophagus 
is  echoed  in  the  curved  pediments  over  two  of 
the  wall  compartments;  nor  fail  to  notice  how  the 
plain  spaces  above  the  central  one  tend  to  help  the 
impressiveness  of  the  figure  seated  below.  This  is 
not  a  portrait  of  Lorenzo,  but  an  ideal  figure, 
commemorating  his  studious  tastes,  as  exhibited 
in  his  famous  collection  of  manuscripts.  The 
figure  is  wrapt  in  meditation  so  completely,  that 
Michelangelo's  contemporaries  gave  the  name 
which  cHngs  to  it  yet,  *'I1  Penseroso,"  Thought. 
It  is  detached  from  the  figures  of  "Dawn''  and 
"Evening,"  yet  linked  to  them  by  some  subtle 
aflSnity.  When  you  analyze  the  means  employed 
to  effect  the  suggestion  it  is  found  to  consist  in  the 
main  curves  of  direction  which  pass  up  through 
the  recumbent  figures  to  the  head  of  the  seated  one. 
Further,  if  you  analyze  these  curves  you  discover 
that  the  one  on  the  left  is  composed  of  a  Rhythmic 
succession  of  concave  curves,  while  the  other  is 
similarly  composed  of  convex.  Again,  the  right 
hand  and  head  of  "Dawn"  are  curved  to  the  front 
like  the  right  elbow  of  the  seated  figure,  while  the 
inclination  of  the  latter's  head  and  left  hand  is 
repeated  in  that  of  the  head,  hand  and  arm  of 
"Evening."  These  are  but  some  of  the  salient 
Rhythms  of  the  group  viewed  from  the  front. 
If  you  have  the  opportunity  of  studying  a  cast  of 
it  or  the  original  in  Florence,  it  is  to  discover  that, 
as  you  vary  your  angle  of  vision,  fresh  ripples  and 


RHYTHM  251 

waves  are  continually  disclosed.  It  is,  indeed, 
this  Orchestrated  Rhythm,  penetrating  the  group 
through  and  through,  which  is  the  secret  of  its  won- 
derful Harmoniousness,  notwithstanding  the  diver- 
sity of  feeling  exhibited  in  the  figures  separately. 

For  it  is  the  miracle  of  Rhythm,  as  an  active 
Principle  of  Life,  that  it  can  embrace  in  a  spiritual 
unity  the  diversities  of  condition,  conduct  and 
temperament.  As  the  active  principle  of  Patriot- 
ism, for  example,  it  unites  by  myriad  waves  of 
affinity,  sometimes  obvious,  more  often  subtle 
and  scarcely  perceptible,  the  congenial  and  the 
antagonistic  elements  of  a  nation  into  a  Spiritual 
Harmony.  We  have  our  individual  necessities, 
ideals,  competitions  and  struggles,  but  at  bottom, 
in  the  depths  of  our  souls,  we  are  all  Americans. 
This,  however,  represents  a  Spiritual  Rhythm  that 
is  not  distinctive  of  Democracy.  It  is  just  as 
characteristic  of  an  aristocratic  form  of  govern- 
ment, and  the  examples  we  have  so  far  drawn  from 
Art  to  illustrate  the  principle  are  those  of  the 
aristocratic  ideal  of  society.  So  far,  also,  we  have 
been  studying  artistic  Rhythm  as  an  element  of 
line  and  form.  Let  us  therefore  turn  for  illustra- 
tion to  the  example  of  democratic  art  in  its 
relation  to  the  everyday  things  of  life  and  as  it 
is  revealed  in  color,  a  medium  that  is  less  tractable 
to  rules  and  much  more  intimately  an  expression 
of  temperament  and  feeling. 

To  gain  an  appreciation  of  color  Rhythm  we 


252  ART  FOR  LIFE'S  SAKE 

cannot  do  better  than  return  to  the  study  of  some 
of  the  pictures  by  Rembrandt  and  the  genre 
painters  of  Holland  in  the  seventeenth  century. 
Before  doing  so,  however,  let  us  turn  our  eyes 
again  on  nature.  Immediately,  we  discover  the 
close  affinity  between  color  and  light,  that  indeed, 
they  are  practically  inseparable.  We  know,  for 
example,  that  the  local  color  of  a  certain  field  is 
green;  but  the  green  varies  in  hue  and  intensity 
according  to  the  quality  and  quantity  of  the  light 
and  the  angle  at  which  it  strikes.  The  green  may 
verge  upon  blue  in  the  shadows  or  upon  yellow 
in  the  full  sunshine,  meanwhile  passing  through 
varying  degrees  of  greenness  according  as  the  grass 
is  long  or  short  or  the  meadow  dips  or  rises. 
Again  to  take  our  illustration  of  the  ocean.  When 
it  is  calm,  the  color  and  light  spread  over  it  uni- 
formly; but  let  the  surface  be  scored  with  waves, 
and  their  endless  convolutions  break  up  the  color 
and  light  into  a  myriad  diversities.  Now,  as  we 
watch  the  flow  of  wave  succeeding  wave,  it  is 
Ukely  that  we  pass  from  a  consciousness  of  the 
changing  forms  and  begin  to  be  absorbed  in  the 
change  of  color  and  light.  Greens  and  blues  and 
purples  mingle  and  dance  adown  the  gHde  of  water 
and  breast  the  upper  slope,  then  separate  in  a  burst 
of  laughing  spray,  and  reunite,  and  again  disperse, 
to  wreathe  again  in  an  endless  sequence  of  kaleido- 
scopic light  and  color,  until  their  Rhythms  fill  one's 
spirit  with  strength  and  gladness. 


RHYTHM  253 

Or  study  the  glory  of  a  sunset  sky.  The 
horizon,  maybe,  is  flooded  with  rose,  while  above 
it  layers  of  rosy-orange  cloud  streak  the  greening 
sky.  Higher  yet  are  tufts  of  vapor,  paling  to 
primrose  or  deepening  in  their  rose  to  violet,  as 
the  green  of  the  sky  passes  overhead  to  blue  and 
melts  into  purple  at  the  zenith.  But  the  Rhythms 
of  light  and  color  baffle  words.  The  sky  itself 
must  be  searched  for  the  wave-like  sequences  of 
tone,  for  the  accents  of  hue  echoed  in  infinite 
varieties  of  intensity  and  for  the  subtler  web  of 
values,  which  unite  the  separate  elements  of  beauty 
into  a  wondrous  Whole  of  Spiritual  Satisfaction. 

K  we  refer  again  to  the  photograph  of  Rem- 
brandt's "Supper  at  Emmaus,"  a  careful  study 
will  assure  us  that  the  poignancy  of  the  picture's 
spiritual  appeal  is  largely  due  to  the  eddies  of  light 
which  surround  the  central  illumination.  They 
are  not  continuous  or  regular,  as  when  the  surface 
of  a  quiet  pool  is  disturbed.  They  are  broken  up 
and  resolved  into  suggestions  of  varying  value, 
accented,  graded  and  distributed  with  infinite 
subtlety.  It  is  this  very  Subtlety  of  Rhythm  that 
makes  the  scene  penetrate  one's  imagination  so 
profoundly. 

Similarly,  in  the  Dutch  genre  pictures  it  is  the 
Rhythm  of  light  and  color  which  draws  the  simple 
scenes  of  these  interiors,  occupied  with  one  or  two 
figures,  doing  nothing  in  particular  except  hving, 
into  such  a  Wholeness  of  general  Harmony.    The 


254  ART  FOR  LIFERS  SAKE 

third  dimension  of  depth  or  distance  plays  so  im- 
portant a  part  in  these  pictures  that  their  composi- 
tion has  been  described  as  based  upon  the  cubic 
principle.  You  look  into  a  definitely  inclosed 
concavity,  lighted  by  a  visible  or  invisible  window, 
usually  on  one  side.  Sometimes  you  look  through 
one  room  into  another,  and  occasionally  through 
the  latter  into  the  street  beyond.  The  whole 
scene  is  filled  with  the  sense  of  atmosphere  in 
which  each  figure  or  object  has  its  individual  bulk 
and  occupies  its  space  with  absolute  adjustment 
to  the  natural  appearance  of  the  whole  scene. 
Usually  the  color  scheme  is  based  on  some  one 
color.  Jan  Vermeer,  for  example,  the  greatest 
of  all  the  genre  painters,  was  partial  to  blue. 
With  this  he  would  contrast  lemon  color  and  add 
sparingly  of  red;  and  then  echo  these  hues  with 
higher  or  lower  tones,  distributed  throughout  the 
picture,  so  that  the  whole  vibrates  with  Harmony. 
Meanwhile  —  and  this  can  be  seen  even  in  .  a 
photograph  of  his  work  —  some  parts  of  the 
picture  are  in  full  illumination,  others  drowsy  in 
shade,  while  varying  values  of  light  bound  from 
point  to  point,  hovering  a  moment  and  then 
leaping  to  alight  elsewhere,  and  so  on  in  a  wreathed 
dance  of  light  that  makes  the  whole  hollow  of  the 
interior  sparkle  and  glow  with  grace  of  fancy.  The 
whole  composition  is  woven  into  a  closer  web  of 
Harmony  by  the  Rhythm  of  values  of  light  and 


RHYTHM 


255 


One  may  find  the  counterpart  of  this  in  actual 
life  when  a  few  friends  are  gathered  in  the  home  of 
a  clever  and  genial  host  or  hostess.  The  gracious- 
ness  and  intelligence  of  the  latter  irradiate  the 
scene,  touching  into  activity  the  wits  of  every 
member  of  the  group,  so  that  the  talk,  now  gay, 
now  grave,  circulates  freely.  Thought  leaps  out 
to  join  with  thought  and  smiles  and  animation 
glance  from  the  Ups  and  eyes  of  all,  as  he  or  she 
contributes  a  share  to  the  Rhythmic  Harmony  of 
the  occasion. 

In  a  word.  Rhythm  is  that  element  which  both 
quickens  and  refines  the  Harmonies  of  Life  and  per- 
meates them  with  the  Oneness  of  Spirit.  It  was 
a  sense  of  the  graciousness  of  Rhythm  that  inspired 
the  Greek  personification  of  the  Graces;  of  which 
Spenser  wrote  with  so  beautiful  an  appreciation 
of  the  practical  value  of  the  idea  in  Life. 

"These  three  on  men  all  gracious  gifts  bestow 
Which  deck  the  body  or  adorn  the  mind, 
To  make  them  lovely  or  well-favored  show; 
As  comely  carriage,  friendly  ofl&ces  that  bind, 
And  all  the  complements  of  courtesy. 
They  teach  us  how  to  each  degree  and  kind 
We  should  ourselves  demean,  to  low,  to  high. 
To  friends,  to  foes;  which  skill  men  call  civility." 


In  promoting  this  finer  kind  of  "civiHty,"  so 
essential  to  the  Harmony  and  Rhythm  of  Life,  we 
are  coming  again  to  a  recognition  of  the  part 
that  should  be  played  by  the  human  voice.    For 


256  ART  FOR  LIFERS  SAKE 

in  the  hurry  and  turmoil  of  progress  during  the 
last  twenty-five  years  many  of  the  graces  of  life 
have  been  slurred  over  and  none  more  disastrously 
than  that  of  speech.  Our  problem  is  a  singular 
one,  for  it  has  been  complicated  by  two  causes: 
the  enormous  immigration  and  the  pubHc  school 
system.  The  adult  foreign  element  has  dropped 
the  amenities  of  speech  and  manner  that  it  brought 
from  the  old  country  without  completely  acquiring 
those  of  the  new.  On  the  other  hand,  in  the  pub- 
lic schools  children  of  all  conditions  are  brought 
into  close  and  daily  contact  with  one  another; 
the  rough  mingling  with  the  well-nurtured,  and 
many  being  still  in  the  stage  of  learning  our 
language.  Further,  the  classes  are  large  so  that 
individual  instruction  is  difficult,  and  the  child, 
being  at  the  mimetic  stage,  readily  picks  up  the 
speech  and  manner  of  its  fellows. 

Meanwhile,  this  very  mingling  of  all  classes  of 
children  offers  a  wonderful  opportunity,  scarcely 
to  be  found  elsewhere,  of  making  Beauty  of  Speech 
a  national  asset.  If  one  travels  about  the  coimtry, 
it  is  to  find  that  everywhere  the  children  are  using 
the  same  slang.  Is  it,  therefore,  too  much  to  hope 
that  the  day  will  come  when  a  corresponding 
purity  and  precision  of  speech  will  possess  the 
entire  community?  But  it  can  only  come  about 
when  the  tone  of  the  class  is  no  longer  derived  from 
its  lower  strata  but  from  the  teacher  at  the  top. 
■  f  At  present  it  is  rather  the  exception  to  find 


RHYTHM  257 

teachers  who  have  a  proper  control  of  what  should 
be  their  chief  source  of  influence,  namely,  their 
voice.  Even  if  they  use  words  correctly,  the 
method  of  speech  is  likely  to  be  uninspiring,  if 
not  positively  deadening  in  its  monotony  or  rasping 
in  its  hardness.  Yet  I  doubt  if  there  is  any  living 
language  on  earth  so  apt  by  turns  to  stir  and  to 
woo  the  imagination  as  our  English  tongue;  for 
it  combines  with  the  pure  vowel  sounds  of  the 
South  the  stiff,  trenchant  consonant  sounds  of 
the  North.  It  is  a  vehicle  of  endless  expressional 
possibility.  But  its  instrument,  like  any  other, 
to  be  played  upon  proficiently,  demands  training. 
Yet  how  often  does  the  culture  of  the  speaking 
voice  find  a  place  in  the  curriculum  of  the  Normal 
School?  It  would  be  a  queer  sort  of  mihtary 
system  that  put  a  rifle  into  the  hands  of  each  of  its 
recruits  and  omitted  to  train  him  in  the  use  of  it. 
But,  for  the  most  part,  this  absurdity  prevails  in 
the  educational  system. 

While  the  vocal  inefficiency  affects  every  hour 
in  the  day^s  school  work,  it  deals  its  worst  havoc 
in  the  Literature  classes;  for,  here,  it  is  upon  every 
aspect  of  Literature,  save  its  one  vital  quahty  of 
sound  in  relation  to  the  sense,  that  the  teacher, 
who  is  not  trained  in  the  use  of  the  voice,  is  com- 
pelled to  dweU.  And  what  is  the  result?  The 
child  is  bored.  It  has  some  of  the  finest  passages 
of  Literature  set  before  it  and  learns  to  hate  them. 
"Oh!  they  wouldn't  like  'Julius  Caesar,'"  said  a 


258  ART  FOR  LIFE'S  SAKE 

High  School  girl  to  me  when  I  proposed  it  as  a  play 
for  her  class  to  produce  at  a  festival.  I  asked  her 
why  and  she  said,  "Because  we  have  studied  it  in 
class,"  adding  as  a  general  proposition,  admitting 
of  no  discussion,  "Whatever  they  study  in  class 
they  hate."  "But  you,"  I  rejoined,  "like  the 
play."  "Oh,  that's  different,"  she  explained.  "I 
read  it  at  home  before  I  went  to  High  School." 
And  I  remembered  that  her  mother  was  a  good 
reader.  As  for  those  teachers  of  Literature  who 
have  not  equipped  themselves  as  good  readers, 
is  it  too  harsh  to  quote  St.  Matthew  xxiii,  2? 
"Woe  unto  you.  Scribes  and  Pharisees,  hypocrites! 
for  ye  pay  tithe  of  mint  and  anise  and  cummin  and 
have  omitted  the  weightier  matters  of  the  law. 
...  Ye  blind  guides,  which  strain  at  a  gnat 
and  swallow  a  camel." 

For  whither  have  they  guided?  Is  it  to  a 
reverence  for  and  a  joy  in  what  is  fine  in  Literature 
and  so  on  to  habitual  appreciation  of  what  is  choice 
and  fine  in  Life?  Is  it  not  rather  toward  a  taste  for 
what  has  the  glitter  of  novelty,  is  shallow  in  senti- 
ment, meretricious,  tawdry,  superficial;  tending 
to  blunt  the  susceptibilities  and  blind  the  imagina- 
tion to  the  large  Harmonies  and  subtle  spiritual 
Rhythms  of  life?  For  you  cannot  make  a  silk 
purse  out  of  a  pig's  ear. 

•X-  ^t  *  -Jt  4t  *  4f 

It  is  one  of  the  best  results  of  our  Public  School 
system  that  it  produces  among  the  children  a 


RHYTHM  259 

Rhythmic  harmony  of  loyalty  and  devotion  to  the 
collective  interests  of  the  whole  school.  Yet  this 
may  fail  of  its  greatest  possibility  of  good,  if  the 
interests  of  the  school  and  not  the  value  of  the 
principle  be  made  the  motive;  unless,  in  fact, 
the  idea  of  the  school  as  a  collective  organization, 
depending  for  its  best  growth  on  the  Rhythmic 
Harmony  of  all  the  members,  be  treated  as  a  type 
of  the  larger  opportunities  of  Collective  Organiza- 
tion that  will  ojffer  themselves  in  the  Hfe  outside 
the  school.  As  it  is,  one  meets  too  commonly 
men  and  women  who  retain  in  after  life  a  loyalty 
to  their  school,  college,  fraternity  or  sorority,  but 
display  no  sense  whatever  of  the  need  and  value 
of  Rhythmic  Harmony  in  the  general  business  and 
conduct  of  Hfe.  It  survives  as  a  sentiment  of  their 
youth,  but  is  not  operating  as  an  active  principle 
of  their  maturity. 

Yet  until  the  whole  conduct  of  hfe  be  penetrated 
with  the  spirit  of  Rhythm,  the  full  Beauty  of 
Collective  Organization  can  never  be  attained. 
FoTy  to  repeat.  Rhythm  is  that  which  quickens  and 
refines  the  Harmonies  of  Life,  and  welds  them  into 
a  Spiritual  Wholeness. 


CHAPTER  XXIX 
THE  PRACTICAL  AND  TEE  IDEAL 

MAN  cannot  live  by  bread  alone.  Still 
less  for  bread  alone.  If  he  have  not  a 
vision  of  a  better  state  than  his  present 
one  and  the  opportunity  to  shape  his  course  there- 
to, his  life  is  not  living,  but  a  bare  existence  — 
hand  to  mouth,  whether  the  hand  grips  a  crust  or 
flourishes  a  golden  spoon.  For  its  recreation  of 
self  by  self  humanity  needs  an  Ideal. 

The  Ideal  changes  from  age  to  age,  according 
as  man's  attitude  toward  Life  changes.  When 
his  hold  on  Life  has  been  most  eager,  his  Ideal  has 
been  closest  to  the  possibihties  of  betterment  which 
Life  itself  presents.  It  is  when  the  hold  has 
slackened  that  his  Ideals  have  merged  themselves 
in  visionary  dreams.  Thus,  to  the  Greeks,  when 
the  zest  of  Ufe,  both  in  its  physical  and  intel- 
lectual opportunities  was  at  its  zenith,  the  Ideal 
discovered  itself  in  a  perfected  humanity.  In 
the  Middle  Ages,  brutalized  with  war  and  darkened 
with  the  ever  present  menace  of  death,  men  and 
women  of  the  finest  type  retreated  into  monasteries 
and  convents,  feeding  their  hope  of  betterment 
solely  on  the  dreams  and  visions  of  a  life  to  come. 


PRACTICAL  AND  IDEAL  261 

Then  as  the  recovery  of  the  Greek  and  Roman 
classics  opened  anew  the  floodgates  of  the  Beauty 
of  Life,  those  who  had  the  opportunity  to  enjoy  it 
built  a  splendid  fabric  of  IdeaHsm;  not,  however, 
on  the  general  life  of  the  community  but  upon 
their  own  favored  Hfe  of  privilege.  Such  was  the 
Ideal  of  Italy  of  the  Renaissance.  It  was  suc- 
ceeded by  the  Ideal  of  Holland  of  the  seventeenth 
century,  which  was  very  close  to  the  hope  of  all 
the  community,  being  foimded  on  the  general 
betterment.  But  even  Holland  during  the  follow- 
ing century  reacted  to  the  aristocratic  view  of 
Life,  which  prevailed  throughout  Europe;  and 
everywhere  IdeaHsm,  so  far  as  it  related  to  Life, 
was  confined  to  society  and  courts,  while  in 
matters  of  Art  it  represented  a  soulless  affectation 
of  that  of  the  Renaissance.  Then  came  the 
nineteenth  century  with  its  leveling  of  old  faiths, 
dogmas  and  caste  barriers,  its  profession  of  a 
regard  for  the  rights  of  man  and  its  scientific 
examination  of  all  the  facts  of  Ufe.  Gradually 
the  world  joined  hands  with  the  Hollanders  of  the 
past  in  the  search  for  an  Ideal,  intimately  founded 
on  the  actual  betterment  of  the  everyday  Life  of 
the  Community. 

Meanwhile,  in  the  process  of  evolution,  hu- 
manity, both  in  its  Practice  and  Ideals  has  ad- 
vanced beyond  those  of  seventeenth  century 
Holland.  Its  attitude  toward  Life  has  changed. 
With  an  increased  sweep  and  directness  of  scien- 


262  ART  FOR  LIFE'S  SAKE 

tific  vision  it  is  learning  to  solve  the  problem  of 
the  Whole  Life.  The  Individualistic  point  of  view 
is  yielding  to  the  Collective. 

Government  is  presimied  to  be  by  the  people 
for  the  people;  the  work  of  the  individual  artisan 
has  been  absorbed  into  imions;  that  of  the  in- 
dividual craftsman  into  factories;  the  individual 
resources  of  money  are  now  syndicated  into  com- 
binations of  capital;  individual  businesses,  com- 
bined into  department  stores.  Collectivism  has 
even  invaded  the  home  and  thereby  changed  the 
status  of  the  individual  housewives.  They  have 
closed  for  ever  the  individual  stiUrooms;  no 
longer  twist  and  dye  their  own  yarn,  weave  it 
into  textiles  and  stitch  the  material  into  clothing 
and  furnishing  for  the  household.  For  almost 
every  necessity  and  luxury  of  Hfe  they  rely  upon 
the  output  of  Collective  Industry.  Hence  woman, 
ousted  by  the  change  of  social  conditions  from  her 
former  sphere  of  inclusive  individuality  is  begin- 
ning to  think  of  and  work  for  her  sex  collectively; 
just  as  she  is  also  beginning  to  think  of  and  work 
for  the  child  collectively. 

Nor  is  woman  alone  in  this.  Thinking  men  as 
well  as  women  are  studying  social  conditions  in 
their  Collective  aspects:  marriage,  eugenics,  pov- 
erty, prostitution,  health,  sickness  and  so  on. 
Not  only  are  these  and  corresponding  conditions 
being  studied  in  the  Whole,  but  also  as  they  affect 
the  Whole  Community.    Accordingly  the  latter  is 


PRACTICAL  AND  IDEAL  263 

coming  to  be  regarded  as  responsible  for  the  treat- 
ment of  conditions  and  Collective  Organization  is 
everywhere  in  train  to  supplant  the  unscientific, 
necessarily  wasteful  and  less  efficient  methods  of 
the  individualistic  system.  All  honor  is  due  to 
the  individuals  who  have  stepped  into  the  breach 
that  public  indifference  had  left  uncared  for.  But 
in  time  to  come  their  greatest  honor  will  be  found 
in  the  fact  that  it  was  through  their  public  spirit 
that  the  community  itself  was  stirred  as  a  whole 
to  its  duties  and  responsibihties. 

Accordingly,  the  Ideal  of  today  is  one  of  better- 
ing others  as  well  as  ourselves.  It  is  the  Ideal  of 
Christ  which,  after  being  held  up  and  thwarted 
through  two  thousand  years  by  the  greed  and 
selfishness  of  privilege,  is  now  gradually  in  process 
of  being  achieved  by  the  awakened  conscience  and 
courage  of  a  veritable  Democracy.  For  in  the 
final  analysis  the  Ideal  of  a  Community,  as  of  an 
Individual,  is  neither  more  nor  less  than  the  basis 
of  its  faith,  the  goal  of  its  hope.  And  today  our 
Faith  is  founded  on  humanity  and  our  Hope  aims 
at  its  collective  betterment.  This  Faith  is  the 
sure  product  of  a  more  thoroughly  scientific 
knowledge  of  the  nature  of  humanity,  and  the  Hope 
is  justified  by  being  based  on  natural  processes  of 
evolution.  Both  the  Hope  and  the  Faith,  there- 
fore, are  Practical.  Today,  in  fact,  there  is  not  the 
separation  that  has  at  times  existed  between  the 
Practical  and  the  Ideal.    The  idealist  no  longer 


264  ART  FOR  LIFE'S  SAKE 

floats  on  iridescent  dream-clouds;  he  has  his  feet 
squarely  on  the  ground  and  is  working  toward  the 
heaven  of  his  hope  with  as  strict  a  reliance  upon 
the  means  at  his  disposal  as  the  mariner.  Nor 
does  the  truly  Practical  man  ignore  the  need  and 
value  of  the  Ideal,  since  he  is  learning  what  a 
momentum  it  gives  to  the  wheels  of  Practical  Ufe. 
We  have  discovered,  indeed,  that  the  Practical 
is  most  efficiently  Practical  when  it  is  inspired  by 
the  Ideal;  and  that  the  Ideal  without  the  Practical 
is  as  a  soul  without  the  body.  It  is  through  body 
and  soul  cooperating  in  the  Whole  man,  and  in 
the  Whole  Community,  that  the  highest  Collective 
Good  is  to  be  achieved. 

The  possession  of  such  a  Faith  and  Hope  is  not 
to  be  acquired  without  imagination.  Yet  is  it 
not  a  fact  that  our  system  of  education  tends 
rather  to  starve  than  to  stimulate  the  imagination? 
It  is  bound  to  lay  great  stress  on  informational 
instruction  in  order  to  prepare  the  child  for  the 
Practical  necessities  of  Hfe;  but  if  it  does  so  to  an 
excess  that  neglects  the  needs  of  the  Imagination 
it  is  imperiling  the  child's  growth  in  Wholeness. 
For  aU  but  a  few  children  start  in  Life  with  Imagi- 
nation. Knowledge  has  to  be  acquired,  but  Im- 
agination belongs  to  them  as  a  natural  faculty; 
and  their  early  essays  in  Life  and  Living  take  the 
shape  of  supplementing  what  they  know  with 
^^  make-believe  J  ^  In  this  rudimentary  stage  they 
anticipate   the  later  growth  of  the  faculty  of 


PRACTICAL  AND  IDEAL  265 

intuition,  which,  trained  and  disciplined  by 
knowledge,  will  anticipate  the  knowledge  of  what 
is  to  be  by  a  sort  of  prevision.  It  was  such  a 
prevision  that  characterized  James  J.  Hill  when  he 
fixed  his  Faith  and  Hope  on  driving  his  railroad 
through  to  the  Pacific.  Judged  solely  by  the 
knowledge  and  experience  of  his  time,  he  was  an 
unpractical  dreamer.  But  his  Faculty  of  Imagina- 
tion used  the  knowledge  and  experience  as  a 
"spring-board,"  whence  he  leaped  forward  to  a 
future  that  he  could  not  know  but  most  surely 
divined.  His  intuition  substituted,  for  the  child's 
make-believe,  the  man's  matured  equivalent  of 
Faith  and  Hope.  And  now  this  "dreamer"  is 
recognized  as  being  one  of  the  most  practical  men 
of  his  time.  Indeed,  today,  we  are  ready  to  admit 
that  Imagination  is  essential  for  the  achievement 
of  any  great  enterprise. 

On  the  other  hand  it  needs  but  little  reflection 
to  reahze  that  the  great  obstacle  to  progress  in  the 
direction  of  Collective  Betterment  is  a  prevailing 
lack  of  Imagination.  Too  many  men  and  women 
never  see  beyond  their  noses.  They  will  not  even 
permit  their  eyesight  to  penetrate  as  far  as  it 
might;  naturally,  therefore,  they  have  no  vision 
of  an  horizon  beyond  the  Hmits  of  present  actual 
sight.  Yet  all  progress  in  civilization  has  been 
the  result  of  an  ever-widening  horizon,  divined  by 
the  intuition  of  the  few.  It  is  not  until  such  an 
intuition  shall  become  the  faculty  of  the  many 


266  ART  FOR  LIFE'S  SAKE 

that  the  true  harvest  of  Democracy  will  be 
reaped. 

Meanwhile,  there  is  another  phase  of  the  Im- 
aginative Faculty  which  must  not  be  overlooked. 
It  is  that  which  can  conceive  of  the  Desirability 
of  Beauty  for  its  own  sake.  This  was  the  vital 
principle  involved  in  the  idea  of  "Art  for  Art's 
Sake."  We  have  already  used  the  phrase  as 
implying  the  artist's  love  and  pride  of  craftsman- 
ship —  that  it  is  beautiful  to  do  a  thing  well  and 
that  a  thing  well  done  is  beautiful.  But  it  was 
distorted  by  some  to  mean  technique  for  the 
sake  of  technique  and  so  the  phrase  fell  into 
merited  discredit.  Meanwhile,  in  so  far  as  it 
involved  the  idea  of  "Beauty  for  the  Sake  of 
Beauty,  "  it  embodied  a  principle  which,  though 
it  is  essential  to  the  highest  progress,  has  been 
grievously  neglected  in  modern  civilization.  We 
have  rightly  acquired  the  habit  of  judging  every- 
thing by  its  value  to  human  life  and  progress; 
but,  in  doing  so,  have  been  prone  to  confine  our 
estimate  to  material  values  at  the  expense  of 
spiritual  ones.  We  have  overlooked  the  incentive 
to  Practical  achievement  which  is  rendered  by  the 
Ideal.  And  the  latter  in  its  purest  sense  is 
"Beauty  for  the  Sake  of  Beauty." 

A  scientist,  for  example,  sets  out  to  discover  a 
bacillus  that  may  combat  some  dread  disease.  His 
own  Need  of  Life  and  Desire  of  Living  is  stimu- 
lated and  enhanced  by  the  Faith  and  Hope  with 


PRACTICAL  AND  IDEAL  267 

which  the  end  inspires  him.  But,  as  he  proceeds 
step  by  step  in  his  experiments  and  investigations, 
he  becomes  absorbed  in  the  actual  processes. 
Each  one  stimulates  and  enhances  his  enthusiasm; 
is  a  source  of  Beauty  to  his  Life.  Even  if  he  fail 
to  reach  his  ultimate  goal  of  Beauty  he  has  ex- 
perienced the  joy  and  reinforcement  of  Beauty  for 
its  own  sake.  Indeed,  one  may  feel  sure  that  it 
is  the  sense  of  Beauty  for  its  own  sake  that  is  the 
prime  element  of  motive  with  all  men  and  women 
who  work  for  great  ends;  that  no  truly  great  end 
was  ever  accomphshed  without  it. 

It  is  given  only  to  a  few  to  reach  great  ends; 
most  of  us  have  to  be  satisfied  to  do  our  best  in 
the  aggregate  of  human  progress.  We,  therefore, 
even  more  than  he  who  wins  out  to  recognized 
achievement,  need  to  have  our  hves  and  work 
reinforced  and  gladdened  with  Beauty  for  its  own 
sake. 

For  the  need  of  stimulus  and  enhancement  to 
Life  is  a  natural  instinct  in  all  of  us. 

But  we  have  not  recognized  the  need  as  being  a 
need  of  Beauty,  because  it  has  been  customary  to 
associate  the  latter  too  exclusively  with  the  notion 
of  beauty  in  line  and  form  and  color.  We  have 
separated  Art  and  Life  and  in  our  preoccupation 
with  material  considerations  have  beheved  we 
could  do  without  Art  or  have  treated  it  as  a  hobby 
or  an  outward  token  of  our  material  success.  As, 
however,  we  come  to  realize  that  even  the  latter  is 


268  ART  FOR  LIFE'S  SAKE 

achieved  by  methods  similar  to  those  of  the  artist, 
the  artist's  motive  of  Beauty  for  its  Own  Sake 
begins  to  appeal  to  us  not  only  as  desirable  but 
necessary.  And  by  this  time  we  recognize  that  the 
work  of  Art  is  the  nearest  approach  in  concrete 
evidence  of  something  conceived  in  a  spirit  of 
Beauty  and  developed  imder  the  stimulus  of 
Beauty  for  the  sake  of  Beauty.  It  is  the  sym- 
bol, the  outward  and  visible  sign,  of  the  Fit  and 
Balanced,  Rhythmic,  Harmonious  Unity  which 
represents  to  our  Imagination  the  Ideal  of  all 
Human  Betterment. 

Hence,  as  far  as  possible,  we  will  utilize  the 
resources  of  the  artist.  He  wiU  make  our  cities, 
for  example,  as  beautiful  as  possible,  that  they 
may  be  witness  not  of  our  indifference  to  physical, 
moral  and  esthetic  hygiene  but  of  our  Faith  in 
Beauty  and  our  Hope  of  handing  on  to  our  children 
still  richer  Opportunities  of  Beauty.  We  will  see  to 
it  that  the  Spiritual  Harmony  of  the  home  shall  be 
evidenced  in  Harmony  of  Ordering  and  Arrange- 
ment; and  that  its  adornments  shall  be  character- 
ized not  by  superfluity  but  by  the  actual  stimulus 
and  enhancement  that  every  detail  brings  to  our 
Need  of  Life  and  Desire  of  Living.  So  too  we  will 
see  to  the  Beauty  of  our  schools,  in  order  that  out- 
wardly they  may  proclaim  our  faith  in  Beauty, 
while  the  furnishings  of  the  classrooms  shall  give 
the  children  daily  visible  proof  of  the  Beauty  of 
Fitness,  Unity,  Harmony,  Balance,  and  Rhythm. 


PRACTICAL  AND  IDEAL  269 

In  a  word,  while  Beauty  shall  be  the  motive  of  our 
Lives,  we  will  lose  no  opportunity  of  giving  concrete 
expression  to  our  Faith  and  Hope  in  it.  We  will 
develop  into  nation-wide  growth  a  tree  of  knowl- 
edge of  Good  and  Evil  that  shall  be  known  to  all 
men  by  its  Beauty  and  by  the  abimdant  wealth  of 
its  fruits. 

To  this  end,  it  cannot  be  too  often  repeated, 
we  must  cultivate  imagination. 


CHAPTER  XXX 
CULTURE 

RECOGNIZING  the  Kinship  of  the  Practi- 
cal and  the  Ideal,  we  are  in  train  to  form 
a  just  estimate  of  the  need  and  value  of 
Culture.  For,  while  the  word  with  what  it  impHes 
is  of  honorable  heritage,  it  has  become  discredited. 
It  is  not  unusual  to  hear  Culture  sneered  at,  as  an 
affectation  of  superiority  or  the  crazy  delusion  of 
unpractical  enthusiasts.  One  of  the  stock  jokes 
of  Europe  is  the  American  who  scours  over  the 
continent  at  express  speed,  "getting  culture." 
I  myself  remember  meeting  a  Westerner  in  a 
hotel  in  Rome  who  told  me  he  had  arrived  that 
morning  and  was  leaving  that  night  and  in  the 
interval  had  "done"  the  Eternal  City.  He 
explained  that  after  finishing  his  business  in  Paris, 
he  had  found  he  had  a  few  days  to  "  speculate  with" 
and  determined  to  reaHze  the  dream  of  his  Hfe. 
In  anticipation  of  the  possibility,  he  had  provided 
himself  before  leaving  home  with  a  list  of  the 
principal  "features"  and  by  paying  double  rates 
to  a  guide  and  cabman  had  succeeded  in  "taking 
them  ?lU  in."  In  high  satisfaction  he  showed  me 
the  list  with  each  item  duly  ticked  off. 


CULTURE  271 

Now  it  is  easy  enough  to  smile  at  this  or  to 
deplore  it  as  pathetic;  but  for  my  own  part,  I  see 
something  fine  in  this  naive  episode;  yes,  and 
finely  characteristic  of  American  enterprise  and 
spirit.  It  is  not  such  men  as  this  that  retard  our 
Democracy,  but  those  sleek  overfed  citizens  who 
lie  back  in  their  easy-chairs  after  the  day's  business 
and  see  in  the  smoke  of  their  fat  cigars  dreams  only 
of  further  money-making.  The  very  hunger  and 
thirst  for  further  knowledge  and  new  experience 
of  sensations,  which  characterize  the  American 
nation  as  a  whole,  represent  a  great  Spiritual  Asset. 

So,  before  we  join  the  sneerers  at  our  national 
propensity  for  seeking  Culture,  let  us  take  heed 
what  Culture  is.  Regarded  as  the  method  of 
systematically  improving  and  refining  the  mind, 
"Culture,"  wrote  Matthew  Arnold,  "is  the 
acquainting  ourselves  with  the  best  that  has  been 
known  and  said  in  the  world,  and  thus  with  the 
history  of  the  human  spirit."  Regarded  as  the 
result  of  such  a  process,  "Culture,"  according  to 
W.  K.  Brooks,  "is  in  its  wider  sense  a  thorough 
acquaintance  with  all  the  old  and  the  new  results 
of  intellectual  activity  in  all  departments  of 
knowledge,  so  far  as  they  conduce  to  welfare,  to 
correct  living  and  to  rational  conduct." 

It  is  scarcely  necessary  to  point  out  that  the 
latter  definition,  in  its  inclusiveness,  is  one  of 
absolute  and  impracticable  perfection.  No  one 
man  could  have  acquaintance,  much  less  a  thor- 


272  ART  FOR  LIFERS  SAKE 

ough  one,  "with  all  the  old  and  the  new  results  of 
intellectual  activity  in  all  the  departments  of 
knowledge."  But  the  definition  does  imply  that 
an  acquaintance  with  new  as  well  as  old  results  of 
intellectual  activity  makes  for  culture  and  that 
they  are  to  be  gleaned  in  all  departments  of 
knowledge.  In  fact,  as  another  writer,  E.  B. 
Tylor,  says,  "Culture  or  Civilization  is  that 
complex  whole  which  includes  knowledge,  beHef, 
art,  morals,  law,  custom  and  any  other  capabilities 
and  habits  acquired  by  man  as  a  member  of 
society."  This  last  phrase,  concerning  capabil- 
ities and  habits,  should  be  read  alongside  the 
previous  quotation  which  speaks  of  all  depart- 
ments of  knowledge,  "so  far  as  conduce  ta welfare, 
to  correct  living  and  to  rational  conduct."  For 
the  point  to  be  emphasized  is  that  Culture  differs 
from  scholarship  for  the  sake  of  scholarship  or 
learning  for  the  sake  of  learning.  It  is  knowledge 
applied  to  Life  and  Living;  and  in  a  Democratic 
state  should  be  knowledge  appHed  to  the  welfare 
not  only  of  the  Individual  but  of  Society.  It  is, 
in  fact,  knowledge  organized  for  Social  ends. 
Accordingly,  while  hogs  that  Kve  in  a  Democratic 
community  may  be  excused  from  desiring  Cultiu-e, 
no  man  or  woman  can  be  —  except  at  the  peril 
of  being  ranked  a  Httle  higher  than  the  hog.  It 
behooves  every  individual  in  a  Democracy  to 
acquire,  according  to  his  or  her  capacity,  knowl- 
edge of  things  outside  the  necessities  of  his  or  her 


CULTURE  273 

living  that  the  Collective  Betterment  of  Society 
may  be  continually  promoted.  It  is  the  instinct 
of  this  truth  that  impels  the  nation  in  its  desire 
of  and  search  for  Culture. 

But  it  is  the  essence  of  Culture  that,  so  far  as  it 
goes,  it  should  be  thorough,  that  is  to  say  efficient. 
It  is  the  haphazard  pecking  at  knowledge  and  the 
smattering  of  results  attained  which  have  brought 
Culture  into  disrepute.  Such  processes  and  results 
are  almost  worse  than  useless  toward  the  discipline 
of  the  individual  mind  and  of  even  less  benefit  to 
the  welfare  of  the  community  for  they  tend  to 
make  Culture  seem  ridiculous.  The  secret  of  our 
material  progress  and  of  the  advance  in  scientific 
knowledge  and  its  appHcation  to  daily  life  is 
proficiency,  bred  of  thoroughness  and  productive 
of  efficiency.  It  is  still  as  true  as  ever  that  the 
jack  of  many  trades  and  master  of  none  is  the 
enemy  of  progress;  most  dangerous  when  he  prides 
himself  on  being  progressive. 

Therefore  it  is  an  elementary  principle  of 
Culture,  that  each  of  us  should  concentrate  on 
that  branch  of  knowledge,  not  only  for  which  we 
have  the  most  pronounced  appetite  but  in  which 
also  we  may  have  the  best  opportimity  of  attaining 
thoroughness.  Thus,  for  example,  situated,  as 
we  are,  far  from  the  museums  of  the  old  world  with 
only  a  few  in  this  coimtry  that  possess  examples 
of  ancient  art,  it  is  upon  the  work  of  our  own 
artists  that  we  should  base  our  study  of  Art; 


274  ART  FOR  LIFE'S  SAKE 

just  as  we  begin  our  study  of  history  with  the 
history  of  our  own  country.  It  was  so  that  the 
Greeks  of  antiquity  and  the  ItaKans  of  the  Renais- 
sance studied  art.  They  were  thoroughly  familiar 
with  the  work  of  their  own  artists;  watched  them 
grow;  were  eagerly  interested  in  their  develop- 
ment and  awarded  praise  or  censure  according  as 
the  work  did  or  did  not  seem  to  them  to  size  up 
to  the  needs  and  conditions  of  the  time.  There 
were  some,  no  doubt,  who  were  familiar  also  with 
the  work  of  the  past  and  accordingly  could  judge 
comparatively.  Their  criticism  may  have  been 
helpful;  but  only  in  so  far  as  it  put  more  Hfe  into 
the  living  work  of  the  present. 

So  also  today  there  exist  in  most  cities  of 
America  some  few  or  more,  who  have  traveled  and 
studied  abroad.  Their  fuller  knowledge  of  Art 
as  a  whole  will  conduce  to  raise  the  standard  of 
taste  and  judgment  in  their  communities;  but 
not  if  they  merely  babble  of  antique  and  foreign 
art  and  are  not  thoroughly  informed  as  to  our  own. 
For  it  cannot  be  too  often  repeated  that  true 
Culture  consists  in  applying  everything  we  know 
to  the  actual  Living  Needs  of  the  present.  There 
is  no  value  whatever  in  the  study  of  pictures, 
except  in  so  far  as  it  adds  to  the  sum  of 
Beauty,  stimulating  and  enhancing  the  Need  of 
Life  and  Desire  of  Living  in  ourselves  and  the 
community. 

Similarly,  to  this  end,  the  Culture  of  the  in- 


CULTURE  275 

telligent  citizen  should  include  the  study  and 
criticism  of  our  modern  architecture;  aided  by 
such  help  as  the  expert  with  a  knowledge  of  the 
world's  architecture  can  give.  For  this  is  one  of 
the  topics  in  which  the  community  as  a  whole 
should  insist  upon  taking  an  interest,  since  the  man 
who  puts  up  a  building  and  the  architect  who 
designs  it  can  do  more  to  make  or  mar  the  Beauty 
of  the  locahty  than  most  people.  The  planning 
of  our  public  streets,  the  architecture  that  abuts  on 
them,  the  park,  the  playground,  the  water  front 
and  every  feature  that  can  affect  the  appearance 
of  our  cities  and  thereby  influence  the  physical 
and  spiritual  welfare  of  every  citizen,  should  not 
be  left  to  any  one  man's  caprice.  It  is  a  vital 
question  in  the  Kving  growth  of  the  community 
and  as  such  should  enlist  the  collective  interest  of 
all  intelligent  and  public-spirited  citizens.  It  is 
a  shortsighted  kind  of  Culture  that  overlooks  this. 
So  also  with  the  sculpture  selected  to  adorn  the 
public  place  or  pubhc  building.  Whether  donated 
by  a  private  individual  or  paid  for  out  of  public 
fimds,  it  becomes  the  possession  of  the  Com- 
munity, influencing  for  good  or  bad,  however 
imperceptibly,  its  future  welfare.  So  too,  all 
through  the  range  of  objects  which  admit  of 
Beauty  in  their  design.  They  can  just  as  well 
be  made  beautiful  as  ugly  or  commonplace;  and 
it  should  be  part  of  a  community's  Culture  to 
learn  the  difference  between  these  two  qualities 


276  ART  FOR  LIFE'S  SAKE 

and  to  insist  that  it  gets  its  money's  worth  in 
Beauty. 

It  is  a  fact,  not  to  be  questioned,  that  what  was 
finest  in  a  race  or  a  period  has  always  flowered 
into  its  perfected  expression  in  forms  of  Art, 
whether  they  were  the  arts  of  beautiful  design  or 
the  arts  of  music,  drama  or  Hterature.  Art,  in 
one  form  or  another,  has  always  been  a  symbol 
and  expression  of  man's  attitude  toward  Life. 
Can  the  attitude  of  Democracy  toward  the 
Collective  Welfare  prove  an  exception?  It  is 
impossible  to  beheve  it.  Indeed,  as  a  nation,  we 
can  already  show  thousands  of  proofs  to  the 
contrary,  sprinkled  over  every  part  of  the  country, 
while  everywhere  is  stirring  broadly  the  conviction 
of  the  Need  of  Artistic  Beauty. 

At  present,  however,  it  is  penetrating  the  con- 
sciousness of  Individuals  rather  than  that  of  the 
Commimity.  Perhaps  because  Collective  Con- 
sciousness is  a  state  toward  which  we  are  at  present 
only  moving  slowly.  It  is  a  common  phrase,  that 
such  and  such  a  city  is  a  "live"  community.  But 
how  far  is  it  ahve  collectively?  Is  there  no  part 
of  it  that  is  moribund?  If  there  is  not  it  must  be 
a  very  exceptional  community.  Meanwhile,  if  it 
is  tridy  and  abundantly  alive,  we  shall  not  need 
to  be  told  the  fact.  We  shaU  know  it  by  the 
evidence  of  our  eyes;  for  not  only  will  the  life- 
spirit  be  manifested  in  the  energies  of  the  citizens, 
but  there  will  be  no  signs  of  squalor  and  ugliness, 


CULTURE  277 

and  on  every  hand  Beauty  will  testify  to  the 
Collective  Welfare.  It  is  "by  their  fruits  ye  shall 
know  them." 

******* 

For  it  is  a  well-estabhshed  fact  of  human 
nature  that  it  needs  an  outward  and  visible  sign. 
The  patriotism,  for  example,  of  every  nation  needs 
its  flag  to  rally  to.  The  collective  spirit  of  a 
community  must  have  its  rallying  place,  the 
equivalent  of  the  Cathedrals  of  the  Middle  Ages 
which  were  the  communal  centers  of  the  culture 
of  the  period.  We  have  made  a  step  in  this 
direction  in  the  art  museums  which  are  appearing 
in  so  many  cities.  But  the  danger  of  the  museum 
is  twofold:  first,  that  it  may  be  merely  a  mauso- 
leum of  dead  art;  secondly,  that  its  devotion  to 
certain  forms  of  art  may  easily  obscure  the  con- 
current importance  of  other  forms  of  art  and  thus 
perpetuate  the  barriers  that  part  one  branch  of 
human  knowledge  from  another,  thereby  militat- 
ing against  the  broad  idea  of  Art  as  a  Whole  in  its 
proper  relation  to  the  Whole  Life. 

The  first  danger  can  be  and  is  being  reduced 
by  systematized  instruction  in  the  galleries,  so 
that  those  who  have  the  opportunity  and  the  will 
to  attend  may  be  stirred  to  a  living  interest  in 
the  contents  of  the  museum.  Otherwise,  to  the 
vast  majority  of  visitors  the  exhibits  may  easily 
have  Httle  or  no  meaning. 

As  to  the  second  objection,  it  is  possibly  true 


278  ART  FOR  LIFE'S  SAKE 

that  in  cities  of  the  largest  size,  separate  buildings 
cannot  be  avoided  and  may  be  an  advantage. 
In  a  community  as  large,  for  example,  as  New 
York,  the  art  museum,  the  natural  history  mu- 
seum, the  public  library  and  the  concert  hall 
could  not  well  be  contained  in  one  group  of  build- 
ings, as  in  Pittsburg,  where  the  technical  school 
also  is  in  close  proximity. 

But  for  cities  of  smaller  size,  where  the  Com- 
munity Idea  has  the  best  chance  of  being  realized, 
the  Pittsburg  plan  comes  nearer  to  what  should 
be  the  model.  But  the  actual  model  of  the  future 
will  be  owned  and  administered  by  the  People 
and  will  embrace  still  more  branches  of  Art. 
Indeed,  there  will  be  nothing  that  makes  for  the 
People's  Welfare  but  it  will  have  its  place  there 
and  find  therein  its  opportunity  of  being  recog- 
nized, tested  and,  if  found  Fit  and  Beautiful, 
adopted. 

This  Home  of  the  Common  Welfare,  as  one's 
imagination  may  picture  it  in  the  future,  will  be 
the  center  of  a  system  of  Welfare  Homes,  dis- 
tributed over  the  city  according  to  population. 
These  will  be  no  other  than  the  present  Primary 
and  High  Schools,  put  to  a  further  degree  of  use- 
fulness. Already,  in  some  cities,  these  are  utiHzed 
in  the  evenings  for  lectiures.  This  practice  will 
be  expanded  to  include  other  forms  of  physical, 
mental  and  moral  Beauty.  They  will  become  the 
Recreation  Centers  of  their  respective  neighbor- 


CULTURE  279 

hoods;  some  for  the  service  of  the  children,  others 
for  the  young  men  and  women,  who  have  gone 
out  into  the  world  and  are  in  such  dire  need  of 
wholesome  places,  where  they  may  feel  that  they 
are  at  home  with  their  fellows.  Exhibitions  of 
pictures  or  photographs  will  be  held  in  these 
centers:  organized  in  time  by  the  young  people 
themselves.  They  will  be  the  centers  also  of  the 
neighborhood's  love  of  music:  the  people  them- 
selves, with  the  help  of  professional  guidance, 
rehearsing  music  for  the  love  of  it  and  giving  con- 
certs for  the  delight  of  others.  Similarly,  they 
will  be  centers  of  the  love  of  literature  and  drama. 
Readings  and  recitations  will  be  frequent;  dra- 
matic performances  will  be  rendered  by  the  young 
people,  who  will  also  paint  and  build  their  scenery, 
design  the  costumes  and  even  write  the  plays  and 
compose  pageants.  They  will  be  the  homes,  too, 
of  the  arts  of  dancing  and  physical  culture; 
forums  also  for  discussion;  places  where  inventors 
of  all  devices  for  Human  Betterment  can  exhibit 
their  schemes,  and  those  who  have  specially  at 
heart  the  beautifying  of  the  city,  the  improvement 
of  tenements,  the  eradication  of  disease  and  every 
other  organized  effort  to  enhance  the  Beauty  of 
Living  will  stimulate  Collective  enthusiasm  by 
exhibitions  and  discussions. 

The  imagination  pictures  these  local  Welfare 
Homes  as  being  affiliated  with  the  Central  Home 
of  Welfare.    This  will  be  more  than  a  Museum  of 


28o  ART  FOR  LIFERS  SAKE 

Art.  It  will  be  the  active  heart  of  all  the  Arts  of 
Living:  the  arterial  center  of  the  Faith  and  Hope 
of  the  Community.  Here  will  be  grouped  the 
galleries  for  works  of  art,  the  main  library,  the 
concert  hall,  forum  and  theatre  of  the  people  and 
accommodation  for  civic  ceremonies  and  enter- 
tainments. It  will  be  a  visible  center  of  culture 
such  as  was  the  Doge's  Palace  in  the  proud  days 
of  Venice;  but  not  for  the  Council  of  Ten,  nor 
the  Council  of  One  Hundred,  but  for  the  People. 
It  will  be  the  hub  of  a  University  of  Civic 
Culture. 

Further,  the  imagination  pictures  a  system  of 
university  extension.  The  local  Welfare  Homes 
will  be  af3[iliated  with  the  School  Centers  of  Welfare 
in  the  smaller  towns  and  the  latter,  in  turn,  with 
those  of  the  villages.  The  bigger  communities 
will  share  with  the  smaller  their  privileges  and 
pass  them  on  to  the  still  smaller  ones,  until  the 
whole  state  is  organized  into  a  Collective  Whole 
by  an  Arterial  System  of  Culture.  Visiting  con- 
cert and  dramatic  parties,  traveling  libraries  and 
traveling  exhibitions  of  works  of  art  and  of  all 
things  tending  to  the  Beauty  of  Living  will  circu- 
late in  eddies  of  Culture  from  the  central  home. 
Meanwhile,  exhibitions  of  things  pertaining  to 
the  country  will  travel  toward  the  city.  Grad- 
ually the  divorce  between  urban  and  rural  life, 
which  is  one  of  the  problems  of  today,  may 
be  healed,  as  city,  town  and  village  cooperate 


CULTURE  281 

in  closer  harmony  for  the  Collective  Betterment 
of  the  whole  State. 


A  dream,  you  say,  that  needs  a  miracle  for  its 
accomplishment  ?  But  the  power  of  the  miracle  is 
within  us.  It  is  the  miracle  of  the  possible 
Wholeness  of  Life;  the  Wholeness  of  the  Individ- 
ual Life,  correlated  to  the  Wholeness  of  the  Life 
of  the  Community.  And  the  means  also  is  in  our 
hands.  It  is  the  miracle  of  Art;  of  Scientific- 
Artistic  Organization,  inspired  by  Beauty  of  Life 
and  Living. 

What  is  needed  for  the  working  of  the  miracle 
is  Spiritual  Imagination;  Imagination  to  vision 
forth  the  possible  ideal  in  the  actual;  the  far- 
sight which  pictures  the  local,  temporal  and 
personal  in  relation  to  the  rounded  completeness 
of  a  Universal  Whole;  that  Spiritual  Wholeness 
of  purpose,  which  is  founded  upon  Faith,  Hope 
and  Love. 

In  the  might  of  its  Spiritual  Imagination  the 
New  Democracy  must  prevail. 


INDEX 


aristocracy:  Italian  Renais- 
sance an  art  of,  32;  persists 
in  democratic  countries,  194, 
200. 

art:  what  qualities  go  to 
make  work  of,  12,  123,  268; 
popular  understanding  of 
term,  16-20;  public's  in- 
difference to,  cause-t>f,  20,  21; 
divorce  from  life,  causes  of, 
30;  definition  of,  43;  manner 
of  advent  into  world,  65; 
derivation  and  meaning  of 
word,  66,  67,  163;  relation  of, 
to  life,  12,  18-21,  233,  234,  as 
imderstood  by  MiUet,  70,  71; 
highest  results  of,  come 
through  necessity,  106;  should 
be  one  with  religion  and 
morality,  137;  unifying 
medium  of  ideal  and  practi- 
cal, 139,  141;  and  machinery, 
175-184;  expression  of  man's 
attitude  towards  life,   276. 

ART   FOR    art's    SAKE:     UOt    Sole 

end  of  art,  10,  266;  implies 
delight  in  workmanship,  119, 
266;  and  in  beauty,  266. 
ARTIST:  attitude  of,  towards 
art  and  life,  10;  specialized, 
advantage  to,  13;  function 
of,  to  point  way  to  greater 


beauty  of  life,  108;  meaning 
of  word  in  Italian  Renais- 
sance, 68,  future  meaning, 
69;  definitions  of,  15,  16,  54, 
69,  124;  where  layman  re- 
sembles, 76-78,  112;  selects 
from  material  nature  offers, 
106,  107;  gives  vision  form 
and  enhances  life,  112-114, 
1x6,  123. 

balance:  adjustment  of  sim- 
ilarities and  contrasts,  236; 
in  pictorial  art,  236,  237;  in 
sculpture,  237;  in  life,  neces- 
sary to  self-re-creation,  238, 
239;  of  mind,  or  poise,  239- 
241;  one  method  of  instruct- 
ing   children    in,    242-244. 

beauty:  principles  of,  49;  com- 
prehensiveness of  term,  57, 
85,  87;  no  absolute  canon  of, 
87,  88,  129;  ideal  of,  changes 
with  growth  of  individual, 
89,  90,  or  of  art,  127-129; 
definition  of,  90;  watchword 
of  future,  8s,  109;  should  be 
motive  of  all,  86;  once  ban- 
ished from  life  as  irreligious, 
92;  fell  into  disrepute,  93; 
awakened  sense  of  need  of, 
94;     impetus    given    to,    by 


284 


INDEX 


World's  Fair,  94,  95;  moral- 
ity and,  two  aspects  of  one 
need,  loi;  of  wholeness,  105; 
artistic,  as  compared  with 
natural,  105;  enhanced  by 
organization,  107,  121;  illus- 
tration of,  resulting  from 
organization,  147;  stimulates 
need  and  desire  of  life,  iio- 
114,  141;  of  technique,  es- 
sential part  of  work  of  art, 
1 1 6-1 19;  of  both  technique 
and  spirit  found  in  greatest 
artists,  124;  judged  by  effect 
on  spiritual  growth,  148; 
knowledge  of,  needed  in  world 
of  commerce,  179;  in  or- 
ganized life,  quickened  by 
sense  of  rhythm,  259;  to  be 
motive  of  our  lives,  269. 

BEAUTY    OF    LIFE    AND    LIVING: 

may  be  greatest  work  of  art, 
14;  he  is  an  artist  who  in- 
creases, 69;  search  for,  com- 
bined with  industrial  eflfi- 
ciency,  brings  social  better- 
ment, 76-81,  109. 
BERGSON,  HENRI:  views  on  in- 
stinct and  reason,  24;  quota- 
tions from,  illustrating  value 
of  co-ordination  of  imits,  102. 

CATHEDRALS,  GOTHIC:  develop- 
ment of  style,  27;  demo- 
cratic in  spirit,  26-28;  ex- 
pression of  growth,  29. 

children:  future  of  race  in 
hands  of,  48,  49;  equipment 
for   life,   49,    146;    beautiful 


living  as  ideal  for,  51,  52; 
practical  and  ideal  equally 
necessary  in  education  of,  53; 
training  and  suppression  of 
artistic  instincts  in,  54,  55; 
lack  of  guidance  in  adoles- 
cence, 56;  development  of 
esthetic  sense  in,  149-151; 
self-discipline  necessary  to 
choice  of  beauty  of  life,  156; 
training  of,  in  principles  of 
fitness,  202,  203,  of  harmony, 
232,  233,  of  balance,  242-244, 
of  rhythm,  256-259. 

collectivism:  see  Individual- 
ism and  Organization. 

co-operation:  of  business  ment 
and  artists  resulted  in  miracle 
of    World's    Fair,    95.    See, 
also,  Organization. 

culture:  hunger  for  knowledge, 
preparation  for,  271;  defini- 
tions of,  2.71,  272;  promotes 
collective  betterment,  272, 
273;  is  knowledge  applied  to 
life,  272-275. 


DA  viNCi,  LEONARDO:  Signal  ex- 
ample of  the  "whole"  man, 
161,  162. 

democracy:  anecdote  defining, 
60;  cathedral-building  era 
and  Renaissance  in  Holland, 
fruits  of,  26,  41;  promise  of 
truer,  126;  machinery,  out- 
come and  corollary  of,  169, 
181;  co-ordination,  not  sub- 
ordination, ideal  of,  229.  See, 
also,  New  Democracy. 


INDEX 


285 


expression:  what  creates,  74; 
synonym  in  art  for  efl&ciency 
in  life,  75. 

fitness:  most  important  ele- 
ment of  beauty,  75;  example 
of,  in  Millet's  "Sower,"  72, 
examples  of  unfitness,  185- 
191;  sometimes  overlooked 
by  classic  idealists,  129;  for 
purpose,  should  be  guide  of 
artist,  195;  internal,  comple- 
mented by  external  beauty, 
195;  skyscrapers  example  of, 
196;  evil  results  of  indiffer- 
ence to,  202,  203. 

GOTmc:    term  misnomer,  26. 

harmony:  derivation  and  mean- 
ing of  word,  227;  co-ordi- 
nates similarities  and  differ- 
ences, 226-229;  admits  value 
of  differences,  230;  of  parts 
in  organic  wholeness,  human 
aim,  232. 

IBSEN :  a  true  optimist,  158,  159; 
depicts  law  of  growth  in  "The 
Master  Builder,"  158. 

ideal:  not  antagonistic  to  prac- 
tical, 13,  14,  21,  76,  263;  in- 
vades material  Hfe,  58;  and 
practical  combined  in  Leon- 
ardo da  Vinci,  161,  162,  and 
in  other  Renaissance  artists, 
163;  changes  from  age  to  age, 
260;  of  Greeks,  260;  of  Mid- 
dle Ages,  260;  of  the  Renais- 


sance in  Italy,  261;  of  17th 
century  Holland,  261;  of 
present  day  community  bet- 
terment, 261-263;  definition 
of,  263;  finds  embodiment  in 
practical,  264. 

imagination:  spiritual,  the  need 
of  the  age,  174,  184,  269; 
needed  to  enlist  machinery  in 
service  of  beauty,  178,  179; 
of  children  should  be  fed,  264; 
needed  for  collective  better- 
ment, 265;  for  pursuit  of 
beauty,  266-269. 

individualism:  inevitable  in 
pioneer  days,  216;  being 
superseded  by  collectivism, 
214,  215,  262,  263,  yet  en- 
riched by  it,  218,  219,  224. 

instinct:  value  of,  24;  of  the 
child  for  happiness,  45,  46. 

intuition:  handmaid  of  reason, 
24;  a  developed  form  of  in- 
stinct, 91. 

JAMES,  WILLIAM:  views  on  in- 
stinct and  reason,  24. 

JOY  OF  life:  instinct  of,  in 
childhood,  45,  in  maturity,  46. 

life:  happiness,  basis  of,  46; 
as  transcending  making  a 
living,  50,  51,  64;  true  ideal 
of,  51;  oneness  of,  101-105; 
aim  of,  should  be  harmony, 
103;  stimulated  by  beauty, 
no;  growth,  law  of,  157,  158. 

life,  liberty  and  pursuit  of 
happiness:   foxmded  on  facts 


286 


INDEX 


of  life,  47;  child's  training  in, 
in  kindergarten,  54;  can  be 
realized  in  joy  in  work,  98; 
can  be  lost  in  overwork,  171, 
172, 

MILLET,  JEAN  FRANCOIS:  re- 
lated art  to  life  by  painting 
common  life  about  him,  71, 
72;  contrasted  with  classical 
painters,  75. 

NATURALISM:  distinguished  from 
realism,  133-136. 

NETHERLANDS:  Struggle  for 
liberty,  39;  industrial  de- 
velopment in  17th  century, 
40;  artistic  development  nat- 
uralistic and  moral,  41. 

NEW  democracy:  product  of 
science  and  art,  11,  13;  what 
founded  on,  47;  aim  of,  49; 
rights  of  children  in,  52; 
watchword  of,  57,  109;  calls 
for  faith,  hope  and  love,  99; 
will  prevail  by  spiritual  im- 
agination, 281. 

oneness:  see  "Wholeness." 
organization:  of  material  to 
increase  beauty,  72,  108;  to 
obtain  imity,  105-107;  scien- 
tific-artistic, example  of,  73, 
74;  parallel  to  work  of 
Millet,  75 ;  dangers  besetting, 
78,  79,  81;  definition  of,  82; 
anecdote  illustrating  beauty 
through,  147;    collective,  su- 


perseding individualism,  214, 
262,  263. 

practical:  not  antagonistic  to 
ideal,  13,  14,  21,  76,  263;  at 
its  best  when  inspired  by 
ideal,  264,  266. 

precedent:  woman's  indiffer- 
ence to,  23. 

privilege:  claims  of,  25;  cli- 
max of,  in  person  of  Charles 
V,  35;  not  yet  eradicated,  50. 

realism:  distinguished  from 
naturalism,  133-136;  the  prac- 
tical idealism,  136. 

reason:    not  sole  guide,  24. 

REMBRANDT:  exception  to  paint- 
ers of  his  day,  42;  rediscov- 
ery of,  in  19th  century,  42; 
foimd  beauty  in  individuality, 
130;  "Supper  at  Emmaus" 
shows  democratic  ideal,  220, 
221,  and  organic  imity,  222. 

renaissance,  dutch:  demo- 
cratic in  intent,  26,  40; 
naturalistic  and  moral,  41. 

RENAISSANCE,  ITALIAN:'  based 
on  aristocratic  ideal,  32; 
earlier  days  of,  marked  by 
religious  fervor,  32;  later 
days  by  pursuit  of  imaginary 
perfection,  33,  34. 

rhythm:  definition,  245,  259; 
of  physical  movement  brings 
joy,  245-247;  in  nature,  247, 
248;  in  art,  produces  a  living 
sense  of  harmony,  247,  248; 
in  moving  figures,   248,   249; 


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